


The Tutor

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, Desk Sex, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Feels, First Time Blow Jobs, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sansa is Shireen's tutor, Semi-Public Sex, TW: drinks at parties that aren't all they seem, Towels, Wet Dream, in which case no sex happened, the first part of the story is a pretty straight forward romance, the second part is... not?, unless you define sex like Bill Clinton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-07-10 02:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 97,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: Stannis hires Sansa to be Shireen's tutor.





	1. Part I: The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's been a while since I posted anything. Real life got super busy (I had to plan my wedding, and my work situation changed) and all that jazz. But I've finally finished the first draft of this story (about 86 K) and now I'm ready to start editing and posting! I hope to update as regularly as I can, and unless I hit snags in the editing process or feel inspired to make some serious changes, that should be quite manageable.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, GRRM would have a hernia if he knew what I was doing to his characters, but I'm not making any money so he should just focus on getting some of his own damn writing done, etc. etc.

** Part I **

_She doesn’t know I can see her,_ Stannis thought, observing the young lady on his porch.

It wasn’t that he was hiding. He was standing in plain view, albeit inside his house and by a window on the second floor. She’d have to look up to see him. But she seemed to be looking at something on her phone while she waited for someone to answer the door.

Cressen would get the door, Stannis knew. But the man was not as young as he used to be, and it sometimes took him a while to traverse the old manor house. He was always complaining about the amount of staircases.

 _She’s pretty,_ Stannis decided, still looking at the girl. She had long auburn hair that was carefully styled. A cascade of glossy ringlets that shone copper in the afternoon sun. Stannis didn’t know very much about female grooming rituals, but he knew enough to know that it was not a look that was achieved without some work. Her skin looked free of spots or other such adolescent blemishes, and her features had clearly been enhanced with cosmetics. Her clothing, a knee-length skirt and a modest blouse, looked expensive, fashionable, and pristine. It was obvious that she had gone to a great deal of trouble to look her best. He frowned. Women that placed an excessive amount of emphasis on their appearance tended to be cruel in his experience. _Still, she hasn’t showed any sign of impatience._ That was a point in her favour.

Cressen finally opened the door and admitted the girl to the house. He heard the sound of her voice - though he could not make out her exact words - and it was bright and polite. Cultured.

Stannis walked over to his desk and sat down. His computer screen came to life, and Stannis skimmed the girl’s CV again. The nineteen year old had finished one year at KLU and was planning to complete a major in literature and a minor in fine arts. She played the piano, spoke both the common tongue and High Valyrian, and had taken ballroom dance classes for years. According to the document in front of him she had even made it to the podium at a few ballroom dance competitions. Her specialty was the Myrish Waltz.

On paper she looked like the perfect tutor for Shireen. The perfect female role model for his motherless child.

_More perfect than her own mother ever was._

Selyse had been an accomplished enough lady, Stannis supposed. She had been a fully certified accountant, and she had spoken two languages, played the flute, and danced well enough to keep from embarrassing herself at public functions. Unfortunately she had turned out to be deeply religious, too.

Stannis scanned the CV in front of him, but saw no trace of extracurricular activity that had anything to do with religion. Unless volunteering at homeless shelters on public holidays counted. She professed to be both a follower of the old gods and the new, but there was no further information about the matter.

 _Good,_ Stannis thought. _She’ll be unlikely to abscond with some cult leader, then._

There was a knock at his door. “Sir, the young lady has arrived. Shall I send her up?”

“Yes,” Stannis said, scrolling to the top of the document to read the name there.

_Sansa Stark._

Stannis had been tempted to throw the CV out as soon as he had seen her surname, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. It was simply not how he eliminated applicants. He had been in charge of hiring people at his family’s company since he was twenty-four, and he always sorted through the prospective employees in the same way.

First he eliminated those who did not have the correct education or experience to be qualified for the job. Then he eliminated any applications that contained more than two grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. Finally he would eliminate applications which failed to list a single person who would be able to give a reference about the applicant. The rest he would interview.

_One can not help the family one is born into._

Though this was a personal hire, and not for the company, he saw no reason to change the methodology that had always served him well.

Cressen came back with the girl in tow. Stannis rose from his seat to greet her.

“May I present Miss Stark,” Cressen said.

Sansa took a step forward and gave a nervous smile.

“Stannis Baratheon,” he said and shook her hand. The hand was very soft, but her grip was firm.

Cressen asked if they wanted coffee or tea, but they both declined. The old man left.

For a moment they stood still and examined one another. Her nervous smile faltered.

“Have a seat.”

They both sat down on opposite sides of his desk, and Stannis glanced at the list of questions he had memorised a long time ago. With a silent sigh he asked her to explain how her education and background made her a suitable tutor for his sixteen year old daughter.

Sansa squared her shoulders, looked him straight in the eye, and launched into a concise speech. It was clearly rehearsed, but Stannis did not mind that. It showed that she came prepared.

Being of the same social class as Shireen and having had tutors herself in the subjects she had struggled with, Sansa explained that she was in a good position to understand Shireen’s needs. Sansa had achieved top grades in the subjects Shireen wanted tutoring in - literature and art - and she successfully tutored Carellen Smallwood the previous year.

“I understand that your daughter has good marks in the subjects I am to help her with,” Sansa said in the end, “but I also understand the wish to make good marks better, and I believe I will be able to help her move to the top of her class.”

Stannis nodded, begrudgingly pleased with her answer.

He moved on to the next question, asking Sansa to explain how exactly she planned to accomplish what she promised to achieve.

Again he received a rehearsed, concise answer.

And so the interview went, with him asking his questions and Sansa giving perfect answers, until he made it to the end of his list. Normally he would thank her for her time, tell her he would let her know within a week whether she was to be hired or not, and walk her to the door at this point. 

But something was bothering him.

“Miss Stark,” he began, pushing the exhausted list of questions away, “you are obviously not in any financial difficulties.” He paused and glanced at her designer handbag. There was a silk scarf tied around one of the straps. “And I’m sure your studies take up most of your time. Why do you wish to spend what little free time you have tutoring my daughter?”

Sansa’s lips parted and closed. She was blinking fast. “I... “ She took a noticeably deep breath. “I just like doing it,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “Tutoring Carellen - I mean Miss Smallwood - was so rewarding. And it helped with my own studies.” It seemed like she was about to say something else, but she bit her lip and fell silent.

He frowned. “I’ll be honest with you, Miss Stark. You are probably by far the most qualified applicant. But I have interviewed several girls who could probably stand to benefit a lot more than you do from the wages I am offering.”

Sansa looked down at her lap and nodded. “I understand, sir.” She looked back up, and Stannis felt an odd jolt when her eyes met his. Her eyes were a very clear, light blue colour. He had noticed before, but something about them had changed. There was a depth of emotion to them now that was… arresting. “It’s just… I have a younger sister who is about your daughter’s age. We love each other, but she has never let me teach her much of anything. We’re… interested in different things. When I was tutoring Miss Smallwood I felt as if I could be an older sister to her in a way I could never be for my own sister. It - it was a good feeling.”

“I see,” Stannis said, unsure of how to respond. His first instinct was to ask her if she’d ever really _tried_ with her younger sister. Maybe her younger sister _wanted_ a better relationship with Sansa. Maybe it shouldn’t matter so much that they were different, maybe -

He buried his first instinct and rose to his feet, wordlessly indicating that the interview had come to an end.

Sansa rose, too. “I’d be a good tutor, Mr. Baratheon. I hope you will consider hiring me. I want this job very much.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. None of the other girls had spelled it out like this. He assumed they wanted the job because they had applied for it, but Sansa was the first girl to actually _say it._

He walked her to the door and said the usual things about how he would be in touch with her. They shook hands again. She left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the premise of Sansa as Shireen's tutor/babysitter, here are a couple of other Stansa stories that you should check out!
> 
> [nothing comes from nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423078) by [eternalsummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsummer/pseuds/eternalsummer) (I love it, and I think the ballroom dance background Sansa has in my story is pretty much mostly there as an homage! Thank you, eternalsummer!)
> 
> [Missed Signals](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750307) by [Nevermore_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red)


	2. The Makeover

“I love her,” Shireen said, her voice a higher pitch than Stannis was used to. She was hugging him, which was also unusual. “Thank you so much.”

Stannis cleared his throat, feeling his heart clench in on itself when Shireen took a step back. He hadn’t managed to hug her back. “You learnt something from her, then?”

“Yes!” Shireen exclaimed, flopping onto the living room sofa with a smile. “She’s really smart. And she said she’ll take me shopping if it’s okay with you. To Highgarden Avenue!”

Stannis clenched his jaw. “Highgarden Avenue?”

“That’s where the best shops are. All the girls in my class go there. I’m the only one who’s never been.” Shireen’s enthusiasm seemed to melt away, leaving her with a morose expression that Stannis was all too familiar with.

“Being like everyone else is not the most important thing in the world.”

“Maybe not for _you._ ” Shireen’s tone had turned sullen.

Stannis sighed and brought a hand up to rub his closed eyelids. _Teenagers._ “What is it you need at the shops? You have clothes that fit, don’t you?” Stannis knew this for a fact. His own tailor had made Shireen a set of new clothes every autumn for the past several years. She had never complained before.

“I need clothes that will help me fit _in!_ _Stylish_ clothes. And makeup.” Shireen turned her face away, her fingertips resting against her scarred cheek.

Stannis’ heart clenched in on itself again. “You don’t need makeup.” _You’re beautiful just the way you are._

She turned to look back at him. Her eyes were filling with tears. “Please?”

Stannis didn’t understand why this was so important to her. He didn’t understand what she expected to accomplish by smearing cosmetics all over her face and putting on clothes that carried a price tag that had nothing to do with the quality of the fabric and everything to do with the name of the designer.

But he did not want her to cry.

“Don’t spend more than a hundred dragons,” he muttered, suppressing a sigh.

Her face lit up and she hugged him again. This time he managed to move his arms and squeeze her carefully in return.

***

Stannis was very surprised to find Sansa in his kitchen at eight o’clock on a Tuesday evening. She was often around on weekdays, but she always left before dinner.

“Good evening Mr. Baratheon,” she said, returning a carton of milk to the refrigerator. She was not as dressed up as she had been for her interview with him, but she was still more put together than many of the women who worked for him, and that was saying something.

“Miss Stark,” he said, staring at her and trying to recall whether he was supposed to know why she was in his house at this hour.

Sansa lifted a glass of milk to her lips and took a small sip. “Shireen asked me to stay a little longer today. I’m helping her learn how to use some of the things we picked up in town on Saturday.”

Stannis nodded, feeling some of the tension drain from his body. “I see.” He crossed his arms and then immediately uncrossed them, placing his hands in his pockets instead. “I hope she’s not inconveniencing you.”

Sansa blinked at him, her mouth dropping open for a moment. “Oh, not at all! I don’t mind helping her. It’s... I mean... “ She took a deep breath. “My sister would never let me teach her things like this,” she went on, smiling down at her glass of milk. “You know, makeup and things like that. But Shireen is just lovely.” A pink tinge appeared on Sansa’s cheeks.

He didn’t know what to say. An uncomfortable sense of helplessness squirmed in the pit of his stomach, but a part of him was… pleased? He had wanted Shireen to have a female role model. Someone to help her with… feminine pursuits. Wasn’t this all going according to plan? 

“Don’t stay up too late,” he eventually said. “It’s a school night.”

Sansa nodded. “Of course, sir.” She took her half-empty glass of milk with her when she left the kitchen, along with a plate of biscuits he hadn’t paid any attention to until she picked it up from the counter.

Stannis watched her leave, absently noticing the way the light caught in her long, glossy hair.

***

“What do you think?” Shireen said, her eyes sparkling and her entire body practically vibrating with badly contained excitement. She twirled in front of him.

Stannis folded his newspaper and placed it next to his plate of toast. “You look different,” he said, frowning at her and taking in the changes she had clearly made. The changes Sansa Stark had helped her make. He picked up his cup of tea and examined her closely.

Her clothes looked decidedly more _modern_ than anything his tailor had ever produced, and the cut of them drew attention to the fact that his daughter had quite a small waist. Her shoes were different, too. There were heels. And her _hair._ It was usually always straight and neatly combed, but now it looked like there was a lot more of it. And it was decidedly _glossy_. Her face looked the same, yet different. Her skin looked fresh, and her eyes seemed more noticeable, somehow. Her scars were partially obscured by her hair, but even where they weren’t obscured, they seemed… smoother. Less dry and hard. And her lips were a different colour than they usually were. More vibrant. The overall effect was… pretty.

“Different how?” Shireen asked, standing still now. She looked flushed.

“You’ve done something to your hair,” he said, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his tea.

“I just blow-dried it and used a bit of product. It’s easy!” Shireen was glowing.

A warm feeling that had nothing to do with the tea settled over him. “I see,” he said, watching as Shireen twirled one last time before taking her seat.

“I can’t wait to go to school!”

***

“How do you know when it’s the right time to kiss? And how do you let the guy know that you think it’s the right time?”

Stannis stopped dead in his tracks. He had been about to knock on Shireen’s not-quite-closed door and ask whether Sansa would be staying for dinner. Over the past few weeks it had become a common occurrence, and since Cressen and the cook had weekends off and Stannis was going to order in, he needed to know how many people he was feeding. Hearing his daughter’s question chased all thought of food from his mind, however. He remained perfectly still, listening intently for Sansa’s reply.

“The right time is when it _feels_ right,” Sansa said, her tone thoughtful. “It’s not about waiting until the end of the first date, or - I don’t know - until you’re under the mistletoe at a holiday party, or something. The right time is when you really want the kiss, and when you think the guy really wants it, too.”

“But how do you know what he wants? How do you let him know what you want?” Shireen asked, sounding anxious. “In the movies no one ever _talks_ about it, it always just happens so perfectly.”

“Well, first of all movies aren’t real life,” Sansa said, a strange wistful note in her voice, “and second, it’s all about reading the situation. The body language. Everything the guy says and does.”

“Last week, Ned threw a paper airplane at my desk.”

 _Ned?_ Stannis frowned. What was Sansa’s father doing throwing paper airplanes at Shireen’s desk at school?

“It could mean that he was flirting,” Sansa said, making a little humming sound. “Was there a note inside?”

Stannis relaxed. He doubted that Sansa would sound that at ease about the idea of her father flirting with Shireen. Ned was a common enough name. They had to be talking about one of the boys who shared classes with Shireen. As soon as Stannis came to that conclusion he tensed up again, however. Shireen was flirting with boys? _Already?_

“No…”

“Does he ever make an effort to speak to you? Or like… touch your shoulder, or catch your eye?”

It was Shireen’s turn to hum. “I don’t know… he always smiles at me when I say hello to him, though.”

“That’s a great start, but I don’t think you really need to worry about how to communicate that you want to be kissed, yet.” Sansa sounded amused, but her voice was kind.

Shireen groaned. “I knooow. I just - I just thought I’d ask you. In case I do get asked out.”

“You could just ask _him_ out if you like him, you know. Or tell him that you would like to be asked out. Sometimes boys are dense.”

“No no no. No. I couldn’t just _tell him._ ” Shireen sounded horrified.

There was a moment of silence.

“Do you really want to know how to signal to a guy that you’d like him to kiss you?”

“Yes!”

“That part can be pretty much just like in the movies,” Sansa said, laughing. “You gaze into his eyes, lean forward a little - maybe smile at him - and if you want to make it _really_ obvious, you can lick your lips and part them a bit.”

Stannis swallowed and shifted from foot to foot, wondering whether he should knock. It really wasn’t dignified to spy on his daughter like this.

“That actually works?” Shireen asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“If he already wants to kiss you, yes. It usually does the trick.”

“But what if he doesn’t already want to kiss you?”

“Well, then you can’t really force him to. That’s not nice.”

Stannis knocked. “Shireen? Miss Stark?”

He heard Shireen make her way to the door and watched her swing it fully open. “Yes?” She was blushing.

“I’m about to order dinner,” Stannis said, holding his phone up as proof. He hoped his expression wasn’t betraying what he’d overheard. “Is Miss Stark going to eat with us?”

Sansa appeared next to Shireen. There was a red tinge to her cheeks, too. “Not tonight, Mr. Baratheon. Thank you for asking, but I really should get going.”

Once the food arrived, Stannis spent the entire meal wondering whether he should ask Shireen about boys, but he had no idea how to broach the subject. It wasn’t until Shireen stood up to go back to her room that he finally manage to blurt a sentence out.

“Have you started going on dates?”

Shireen gave him a horrified look. “What? No! _Dad._ ”

He resisted the impulse to look out the window rather than at her. “I couldn’t help overhearing a little of what you were discussing with Miss Stark earlier. I would like to know if you start going out with boys. I have your safety to consider.”

His daughter hid her face with her hands. “ _Dad,_ ” she moaned, “can you please not?”

Sighing, he got up from his chair and walked over to her. He debated whether to place a hand on her shoulder, but decided against it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets instead. “You do not have to tell me any details, but if you go out with someone, I wish to know his full name, and I wish to know when and where your dates are to take place.”

Shireen groaned.

“Promise me, Shireen.”

She nodded. “Fine, I promise. Can I leave now?”

“One more thing. Do not accept first dates unless they are to occur somewhere public. A restaurant, for example.”

Shireen agreed, and with her face the particular shade of a ripe tomato, she ran off to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally should have included a link to this story at the end of the first chapter too, but I am a space cadet and didn't think of it. But here is another story with a fabulous dynamic between Stannis and Sansa as Shireen's governess. It's written in the style of a gothic romance, and it's _awesome._
> 
> [The End of Childhood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470629) by [undercovercaptain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercovercaptain/pseuds/undercovercaptain)


	3. The Winter Dance

Stannis did his best to keep out of Shireen and Sansa’s way on the day of the Winter Dance. Shireen had been invited to go as Edric Dayne’s date - apparently he was called Ned - and she had asked Sansa to help her get ready. 

Getting ready was an involved process from what Stannis had been able to gather.

Eventually his presence was requested, however, and though he had just settled down to add a new coin to his collection - a silver stag from the time of Aerys Targaryen’s reign - he immediately abandoned his study to answer his daughter’s call.

“What do you think?” Shireen asked, twirling the same way she had done not so long ago, proud to show off her new look. Sansa stood off to the side, smiling happily. Her hair was in a high ponytail today.

“Very pretty,” he said, the words feeling awkward in his mouth. But his daughter did look very pretty in a deep blue dress and a hairstyle that reminded him of a famous actress.

“Really?” Shireen’s happy expression transformed her utterly.

He nodded.

“How’s the fit of the skirt?” Sansa asked. “And are the heels all right? Do you think you’ll be able to dance?”

Shireen’s ecstatic expression faded. “I’m not sure.”

“Do a few steps,” Sansa encouraged. “Maybe your dad could help?”

Stannis tensed up. “Of the two of us, I believe you’re the more experienced ballroom dancer,” he said, fixing Sansa with a hard look.

Sansa shrugged. “I’m terrible at doing the gentleman’s steps. I’ll just trample Shireen’s feet. And I’m sure you know the waltz, Mr. Baratheon.”

“Please, Dad?” Shireen said, looking at him with exaggerated puppy eyes.

Stannis knew defeat when he tasted it and tried to submit with good grace. It had been years since he’d done any dancing, but the correct stance came back to him easily enough. Sansa counted them in since there was no music, and he guided his daughter through the basic steps of the walz. She smiled at him in a way that he was sure was making her cheeks hurt. 

Something inside his chest felt very warm.

“Maybe try the foxtrot promenade? With an underarm turn?” Sansa suggested. “I want to see whether her skirt will get all tangled up.”

Stannis glanced at her. She was watching Shireen’s feet with an air of intense concentration.

With a sigh he did as he was told. His foxtrot was incredibly rusty, but when the underarm turn went wrong, he was certain it wasn’t his fault. Shireen had stopped following his lead.

“Sorry, I panicked!” she said, biting her lip. “I can’t remember how to do this.”

“Do you want us to demonstrate?” Sansa immediately offered.

Stannis’ stomach did an odd sort of backflip.

“Yes, please,” Shireen said, taking a step away from him to, presumably, make room for Sansa.

He considered protesting, but his voice seemed to have abandoned him. He swallowed instead, and tried to keep his face impassive as Sansa took Shireen’s place in his arms. Putting his hands on her felt decidedly different from touching Shireen. It felt inappropriate to hold her hand, and touching her back - feeling her shoulder blade through her blouse - made him feel horribly lecherous. He did his best to keep his hold as loose as possible, not wanting her to feel groped. He inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down, and almost had to close his eyes when his nose was filled with the thoroughly pleasant scent of her perfume.

Usually he always found women’s perfumes to be overwhelming and cloying. Why couldn’t Sansa’s perfume be like that? It would make things easier.

Before he could consider the matter further, Sansa was counting, and he had to move. It seemed absurd that he was supposed to lead -- she was the more accomplished dancer by far, but she followed along with expert ease, seemingly reading his mind.

The underarm turn went off without a hitch.

He felt oddly aware of his heartbeat.

Breathing became easier when Shireen switched with Sansa again, this time able to follow his lead into the underarm turn without any trouble.

“Thank you so much,” Shireen said when they finished, pecking his cheek.

He nodded, the warm feeling returning to his chest.

“Ned should be here soon,” Sansa said, glancing at her watch. “Do you have everything?”

“I forgot my purse in my room,” Shireen said, already heading for the stairs. “Be back in a sec!”

Stannis felt his innards squirm and tried to think of an excuse to go back to his study so that he wouldn’t have to be alone with Sansa, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“You’re so sweet to her,” Sansa said, smiling at him. “I don’t think my dad would have agreed to suffer through what you just did.”

He blinked at her, trying and failing to process the fact that she’d called him _sweet_.

“I’m not saying he isn’t there for me,” Sansa went on, obviously misinterpreting his stunned expression, “it’s just… he was more comfortable watching soccer tournaments and fencing practise than he was with watching my dance competitions. But I always had Mum, so it was fine.” Her smile looked almost the same as it always did, but there was a light missing from her eyes that made it different.

Stannis didn’t know what to say.

“Anyway, do you have a camera? We should take some photos of Shireen and maybe of her and Ned if he’s okay with it. Or what do you think?”

He seized on the change of subject gratefully. “Yes, I can use my phone. The camera on it is supposed to be good.”

Sansa smiled again, and this time there was an impish gleam in her eyes. “Supposed to? You mean you don’t know for sure?”

“I - er -” Stannis shook his head, trying to clear it.

“I’m sorry, just ignore me. I’m sure it’s fine.” The impish gleam had faded and her expression had softened.

“Got it!” Shireen’s voice proclaimed from the top of the stairs. The purse she had gone to fetch was hanging from her wrist. “Is he here yet?”

“Don’t worry, you’ve still got ten minutes before he said he’d be here,” Sansa said, shooting Stannis an amused smile as if it were completely normal for her to communicate wordlessly with him. As if she did it every day.

His stomach started doing somersaults again.

“Here,” Stannis said, unlocking his phone and handing it to Sansa. “I’m not much of a photographer. I’ll just be in my study.”

“You’re going?” Shireen asked, having reached them. There was disappointment in her tone. “I thought you’d want to meet Ned.”

Stannis did want to meet the boy who had asked his daughter out, but the urge to put some distance between himself and Sansa had made him forget. “I - I suppose I could stay a little longer.”

“Great! I can take some father-daughter pictures, then,” Sansa said, brandishing his phone with a happy expression.

Shireen immediately gave him a hopeful look.

He internalised a sigh. “Where should I stand?”

Stannis didn’t know whether he’d ever been photographed as much, and compared with Shireen, he got off easy. Sansa was relentless, demanding different poses and backgrounds and encouraging Shireen to smile, show off her dress, her shoes, and her jewellery.

Shireen glowed the entire time.

Edric Dayne arrived precisely when he said he would.

The boy was tall and gangly in the manner of teenage boys, with light blond hair and eyes of a peculiar shade of blue. Almost purple. Stannis recalled meeting the boy’s parents at school functions and thought his father might have had similar eyes, though he rarely paid attention to such things.

The boy was polite and seemed suitably intimidated by Stannis, judging by the way he paled when he shook his hand.

_Good._

Sansa took several more pictures, directing Shireen and Ned to stand at the foot of the stairs. Ned seemed reluctant to put his hand on Shireen’s waist when Sansa suggested it, glancing nervously in his direction, which Stannis thought was a good indication that the boy would go far in life.

Then, in a flurry of goodbyes and winter coats, his daughter was gone.

Stannis found himself staring at the front door, a curiously empty sensation in the pit of his stomach. Would Shireen have a good time tonight? Would she feel included? Surrounded by friends who would laugh with her rather than at her?

“Don’t you think they looked cute together?” Sansa asked with a happy sigh, reminding Stannis that he was not by himself. “And did you see the look on his face when he saw her?”

Stannis whipped his head around to stare at Sansa rather than the door. There had been a look? What sort of look?

Sansa gave a tinkling little laugh. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t looking disrespectfully. He just seemed a bit awe-struck. Like all boys should look when a girl spends her whole day getting dressed up.”

He forced himself to unclench his jaw. “I see.”

“Anyway, here.” She held his phone out. “I hope the pictures are okay.”

Their fingers brushed when he accepted his phone back, and a jolt of electricity traveled up his arm. Their eyes met for a moment, and Stannis saw a flash of... something in her eyes. He looked away hastily, and nearly dropped the phone in his haste to shove it in his pocket.

“You don’t want to look at the photos?” Sansa asked, her tone surprised.

“Later,” he muttered.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I sent myself a couple of the pictures. I want to show them to Mum. The hairstyle we did was her idea.”

“I don’t mind.” He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he ask her to leave? Shireen was gone, so Sansa really had no reason to linger.

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence.

“So I guess I’ll just be going now,” Sansa said, looking at him uncertainly.

He cleared his throat. Should he thank her for her help with Shireen? For taking the pictures? Was it his place to thank her for it? She was probably just doing it for Shireen, not for _him._ He decided not to complicate matters and stick to something safe. 

“Good-bye, Miss Stark.”

He turned around while she was in the middle of returning the good-bye, and headed upstairs to his study, his heart thumping uncomfortably, and his late mother’s appalled voice at the back of his mind scolding him for not offering to get her coat for her.

***

It was late, and Stannis had gone through his entire coin collection twice, making sure each coin was in perfect condition. He was finally beginning to feel as if his world had righted itself, and he honestly couldn’t believe it had taken him this long. Perhaps he was coming down with something?

His phone vibrated.

He fished it out of his pocket, glancing at the clock on his study wall as he did. It was still fairly early. Might it be from Shireen? Maybe she had had enough? Maybe she wanted him to come pick her up from the dance?

_I'm sorry to disturb you Mr. Baratheon, but did I do something wrong? I feel like you might be mad at me. I’m so sorry if that's the case._

The text was from an unknown number, but he could see from the message history that he had sent pictures to the person it belonged to. Two of the pictures of Shireen that Sansa had just taken. His stomach jolted. Sansa had said she had sent herself some pictures, hadn’t she? It had to be Sansa’s number. Which meant that Sansa was texting him. More importantly, Sansa was worried that he was mad at her.

Feeling absurdly as if he were doing something he shouldn’t, Stannis typed out a reply and hit send.

**No, Miss Stark.**

He got up from his desk chair and started to pace, his eyes glued to the screen. Would she text him back? Or would his answer satisfy her?

 _Really? I was so worried!_ A yellow face smiled at him from the screen. _Mum said Shireen looked beautiful, btw._

His fingers developed a mind of their own. **Why were you worried?** He pressed send before his brain caught up with what he’d done. He swore under his breath and tried to figure out a way to undo the message.

 _I was probably just imagining things._ Another yellow smiling face. _I’ll stop bothering you now. See you on Monday!_

His fingers itched, but he forced himself to lock the phone. No good would come of prolonging the conversation or demanding answers.

But why would she think he was mad at her? He hadn’t said anything that could possibly be misconstrued, had he? He had barely said anything at all. It made sense for her to worry about angering him, of course. He was her employer. No employee wished to anger their superior.

Maybe she had told him the truth. Maybe she _had_ just imagined something.

He sighed and eyed his coin collection. He doubted another inspection would distract him. He knew the coins were all in good shape. But perhaps he might check the listings? A new coin might be out there, looking for an owner...


	4. The Coin Collection

When the grades Shireen had achieved during her first semester arrived, Stannis scheduled a meeting with Sansa to discuss them. It was what he would always have done, and he refused to let his bizarre reaction to her on the night of the Winter Dance change his behaviour.

It had been a one-off. Just some strange… thing.

The fact that he’d saved her number to his contacts meant _nothing._ She was his daughter’s tutor, and it only made sense for him to have her contact information on his personal phone. There was nothing unusual about it.

There was a knock at his door, causing it to open further since it had already been ajar. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Baratheon?” Sansa said, smiling prettily from the doorway. Her hair was loose today, streaming down her back and over her shoulders in soft waves.

He swallowed and gestured at the chair she had sat in during their first meeting. The interview.

“I have received a copy of Shireen’s grades,” he said without preamble once she’d sat down, clutching the piece of paper and holding it in front of him like a shield.

Sansa immediately straightened in her chair. “Yes?”

“She did very well,” Stannis said, staring at the grades intently though he knew them by heart. “Top marks in her literature and art history classes.”

“I knew she’d do it!” Sansa said, sounding thrilled. “She’s so smart, Mr. Baratheon.”

He would have glared at most people for attempting to suck up to him in such a blatant way, but there was nothing false about the way Sansa had delivered the familiar line. She sounded absolutely genuine, and when he looked up from the grades he could see that she was beaming.

“You should really be so proud of her,” she added, her smile softening to something less exuberant, but no less sincere.

He cleared his throat. “Well - er - yes. I would like you to continue tutoring her. Will the same arrangement be possible this semester?” He put the grades down firmly.

“I haven’t received my class schedule yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as possible if I need to make any changes.”

“That’s fine.” He paused. “I expect you’ll want your wages increased?” he asked, steepling his fingers together and forcing himself to look her in the eyes.

Sansa looked surprised. “I - I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You’ve proven yourself to be an effective tutor,” Stannis said, raising a brow. “You’re in a strong position to negotiate.”

For some reason she blushed. “I really don’t need a raise. I enjoy tutoring Shireen.” She peeked at him with her eyelids halfway lowered. “I enjoy working for you.”

Stannis’ stomach swooped like he had just missed a step. “You barely know me,” he said, frowning at her and resisting the impulse to frown down at his stomach, too.

Sansa was still blushing, but she met his eyes with an air of determination. “I’d like to remedy that. I mean - I’d like to know you better. I know you’re my boss, but as I’ve said, I consider Shireen a friend. So you’re not just my boss - you’re my friend’s father. I spend a lot of time in your house, and you and Shireen are always inviting me to dinner and everything.” Sansa took a deep breath. “I don’t even know what you like doing outside of work.”

Doing his best not to gape at her, Stannis tried to gather his thoughts. Shireen had not had very many friends through the years, but none of them had made a particular effort to get to know him. He didn’t think it was something people generally did. But then, he hadn’t had very many friends as a child. Had Robert made an effort to get to know Ned’s parents? He’d certainly made an effort to spend time with Ned’s sister... 

“I collect coins,” he blurted out, needing to derail his current train of thought.

She blinked at him. “Coins?”

Stannis knew coin collecting was not considered a particularly interesting hobby, and he looked away from Sansa, not wishing to see more of her reaction. He studied his steepled fingers instead, absently noting the way his skin had turned a mottled red and white. “Yes.”

“Can I see it?” Her voice sounded curious. “Your collection, I mean.”’

He glanced up sharply, searching her face for signs of boredom. She looked back with an open expression.

“If you want,” he said, his heart beating a little more quickly. No one except Davos really ever showed an interest in his collection, and Stannis knew Davos mostly did it to be polite. Sometimes Davos showed up with a rare piece for him, though. Stannis had learnt not to ask too many questions about where Davos got them.

Sansa followed him to the bookshelf where he kept his coin collection albums, eyes wide with interest. Stannis paused before selecting the album that contained his most prized coins.

“I’ve made it my particular quest to obtain a full set of coins from the Dragon Age. So far I’ve collected most of the coins that were minted under the Targaryen kings, but I’ve only managed to find coppers from the Baratheon era. No silver stags or gold dragons.”

“Are you and your brothers descendants of that Baratheon line?” Sansa asked, peering at the coins as he flipped through the album’s pages.

“Hard to say,” Stannis said. He had wondered about it, but it was impossible to find out for certain.

“I suppose the coppers were more common than the silver and gold coins?”

“Yes. Much more common,” Stannis said, nodding and showing Sansa the page with the Baratheon coins. “They’re rare today of course, but coppers were more widely used during the Dragon Age. On top of being rare to begin with, the silver stags and the gold dragons were often repurposed over time.”

“You mean like they melted the metal and made it into cutlery or something?”

Stannis nodded. “Or minted new coins from them with different markings.” He pointed out a few of the different markings on the page, pleased with the way Sansa gazed intently at them.

“There’s something a little magical about coins, isn’t there?” Sansa said, touching one of the plastic pockets with the tips of her fingers.

“Magical?”

“Oh, you know… in all the old stories it’s not like the people go about brandishing their credit cards. They always have a pouch with coins tied to their belt, and then in the movies they always do that thing where they bite the coin to check whether it’s real…” Sansa gave a little laugh. “Sorry, I probably sound silly.”

“Neither of those things are magical,” Stannis said, furrowing his brow.

Sansa smiled at him and shook her head a little. “I guess it wasn’t the right word, then. Maybe nostalgic is better? Your coins remind me of my favourite stories.”

Stannis nodded. That made sense. “Your favourite stories happen during the Dragon Age?”

Her smile widened and her eyes lit up. “Yours don’t?”

“I don’t know that I have any favourite stories.”

“What?” Her eyebrows rose up comically. “I don’t believe that. Not even when you were little?”

He closed the album and replaced it carefully among the others. “I suppose I liked the stories about the dragons well enough.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Typical boy. My brothers couldn’t get enough of dragon stories.” She walked over to the corner of his study where he sometimes liked to read, and where he occasionally slept if he worked late into the night. She sat down on the sofa. Something inside him squirmed at the sight of her sitting in a place where he had slept.

Feeling terribly off kilter, Stannis followed her and hovered by the sofa, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “You didn’t like the dragon stories, then?” he asked, curious despite himself.

“I like the stories about the beautiful ladies and their knights,” Sansa said, pursing her lips and looking out the window. “Romantic stories with happy endings.” She sighed. “I know real life isn’t like the stories, but I still love them.”

“From what I recall of the literature I read in school, the great works tend to have tragic endings,” Stannis said, raising a brow. He wondered whether he should sit down. He felt awkward standing over her. But sitting down next to her would be… strange. And he didn’t want make her feel uncomfortable.

“Not all of them,” Sansa said, lifting her chin stubbornly.

Stannis shoved his hands in his pockets, and there was an awkward silence. 

Did his clock always tick this loudly?

“Does coin collecting take up most of your free time, then?” Sansa asked, shifting a little pointedly on the couch. She didn’t go as far as to pat the leather upholstery next to her, but she might as well have.

Deciding that it was more awkward to keep standing over her than it was to sit, Stannis took a seat, carefully keeping Sansa at an arm’s length. “No, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Do you - um - go on dates, then? Or do you just hang out with your friends?” Sansa was blushing again.

Stannis tried to sit as still as possible, and hoped that the high-pitched ringing sound he was suddenly hearing was just inside his head. _She wants to know whether I go on dates?_

“I’m afraid I don’t have time to - ah - ‘hang out’ very much,” he said, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further mention of _dates._ “Though Davos Seaworth and his wife do occasionally invite me and Shireen to dinner.”

“Oh, Shireen’s talked about them! She says they have a few boys. I think she said one of them is a year ahead of her in school. So is Mr. Seaworth your best friend, then?”

Stannis internalised a sigh. What did she want him to say? That they each carried one half of a ‘BFF’ necklace? “We’ve known each other since we were about your age.”

She nodded as if that answered her question perfectly. “That’s like Jeyne and me. We’ve known each other so long that I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Most likely you’d be just fine,” he said flatly.

“You don’t know that,” Sansa said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Are you saying you wouldn’t miss Mr. Seaworth if he suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth?”

Stannis shrugged. “It hasn’t happened, so I don’t know. But I imagine that his loss would make my life considerably more difficult than the loss of either one of my brothers, for example.”

He expected Sansa to narrow her eyes further at that, but was surprised to see her clap a hand over her mouth to muffle a fit of giggles. She regained her composure quickly, however. “Sometimes I feel that way about Arya,” she said, glancing at him and biting her lip. “I know it’s horrible of me, and I don’t _really_ want her gone, but when we’re in Winterfell and she uses my favourite lipstick to smear rude messages all over my bathroom mirror, I swear I could just -” Sansa made a gesture with her hands like she was choking someone invisible.

Stannis looked down, feeling the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. The idea of sweet, poised Sansa Stark strangling anyone was just absurd.

“You should do that more often,” Sansa said, prompting him to look back up.

“What?”

Her eyes were sparkling. “Smile. It suits you.”

He cleared his throat and attempted to wipe his face clean of any expression, but somehow he couldn’t.

_She needs to leave. Now._

“Let me know whether you need to make any changes to your schedule with Shireen as soon as possible,” he said, standing up form the sofa and walking determinedly towards the door. To his relief, Sansa followed along.

“Of course, sir,” Sansa said, all smiles and practically _glowing._

“Stannis,” he said, wincing internally when his voice came out hoarse.

He swallowed when Sansa’s face lit up even further, feeling his heart start to race.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Stannis.” Was she blushing again? “But you have to call me Sansa, then. Please.”

He nodded, cursing his sudden lack of impulse control.

Once she had left, Stannis sat back down on the sofa, staring straight ahead without seeing anything.

The feeling he’d had when he had danced with her had returned, squirming inside of him in a way that reminded him of what it had been like to be a teenager.

He let his head fall backwards, hitting the wall behind the sofa with a thump.

_Fuck._


	5. The Crush

It was time to face the facts. 

Sansa Stark had a crush on her boss.

It was the last thing she had expected when she had applied to be Shireen’s tutor. After all, Stannis Baratheon was Joff’s _uncle._ And he was practically her father’s age.

She really didn’t know how this had happened.

It certainly hadn’t been the plan to develop a crush on Stannis when she had applied to be Shireen’s tutor. Stannis hadn’t figured into her plans at all, even though she had been a little curious about him. The way Robert and Renly spoke of him had made it hard for her to picture him like a real person rather than some sort of cartoon villain.

Her plan had been all about Shireen. The disdainful way that the Lannisters - and even Renly and Robert too, sometimes - had spoken of the girl had never sat right with Sansa. And Joff had been particularly cruel.

 _”Will that hideous creature be there, do you think?”_ Joff has once asked his mother, not even bothering to call Shireen by her proper name. Sansa could still see the sneer he’d worn in her mind’s eye.

Sansa took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to think about Joff.

When she’d heard that Shireen was looking for a tutor in subjects that Sansa excelled at, it had seemed like a sign.

What she had told Stannis when he had interviewed her had been the truth. She did enjoy tutoring because it made her feel like she could be an older sister to the girls she tutored. Like she was needed and appreciated. But she hadn’t told Stannis why she had been determined to tutor Shireen rather than any other girl. It wasn’t a reason she thought Stannis would appreciate.

Sansa simply wanted to tutor Shireen because her heart had hurt for the girl whose own family spoke of her like some… joke. Young girls weren’t jokes. They were human beings with feelings and needs and -

Sansa took another deep breath.

She had wanted to tutor Shireen because she had thought that Shireen might need someone like Sansa as much as Sansa needed someone like Shireen.

She’d been right.

Shireen had taken to her almost at once, and Sansa was still a little surprised at the depth of her own feelings towards the younger girl. Shireen might not have the sort of face that routinely graced the covers of magazines, but she was one of the kindest, sweetest, most intelligent people Sansa had ever met.

Which was why Sansa had started to wonder how someone like Shireen could possibly be related to someone like Stannis.

Her first impression of him had not been a positive one. He hadn’t lived up to the cartoon villain hype, but his interviewing style _had_ been a little terrifying. It wasn’t that he’d said or done anything very different from other people who had interviewed her in the past; he had actually asked fairly straight forward questions. It was more his… presence. The way he had stared her down.

Thankfully she’d had a bit of practise with putting on a brave face in the presence of terrifying men. 

The expression on Tywin Lannister’s face the last time she had seen him floated briefly to the forefront of her mind, but she was quick to push it aside. She didn’t want to think about him any more than she wanted to think about Joff.

Unlike Tywin, however, Stannis had grown much less terrifying each time she’d met him. It probably helped that she spent so much time with Shireen. And Shireen talked about Stannis pretty much like any other sixteen year old girl would talk about her father: with familiarity, love, and a _lot_ of exasperation.

Not that Sansa could blame her. Honestly, the _clothes_ he expected Shireen to wear...

Shireen’s perspective, along with a bit of quiet observation, lead Sansa to realise that Stannis wasn’t as much terrifying as he was… uptight. High strung. Which, when she really thought about it, explained a lot of the things Robert and Renly used to complain about.

Sansa could sympathise with being the “uptight one” in a group of siblings.

Sympathising with him made it easier to talk to him without feeling intimidated, and each time she spoke to him she tried to be as friendly and kind as possible. He usually responded to her efforts with a puzzled, thrown expression.

What sort of life did he lead that he seemed so confused by someone treating him nicely? It almost put her in mind of Sandor.

Sansa shook her head and sighed.

How had she gone from just being nice to flirting? She hadn’t _planned_ to. It was just… the way he reacted to her. How he’d get almost... flustered sometimes when she smiled.

And yet he hadn’t leered at her _once._ Hadn’t even stolen a glance at her chest as far as she’d been able to tell.

Sansa wasn’t sure she’d ever met a man who was so thoroughly… _decent._ He seemed to be intelligent and dedicated to his work, didn’t smoke, drink to excess, gamble, or chase skirts all over town, and as far as Sansa could tell, he certainly wasn’t a manipulative asshole or a deprived sadist who took joy in the misery of others. 

Most importantly, it was obvious that he genuinely loved his daughter.

Sansa thought back to the night of the Winter Dance. His love for Shireen had been so clear that night. It had softened his eyes and his expression to something that Sansa had never seen before, and he’d shown it with his actions too, when he’d helped Shireen practise, even though he clearly wasn’t the most comfortable dancer.

She knew that she shouldn’t have seized the opportunity to dance with him, too. But it had been too good to pass up. She’d probably never get another chance to touch him, so she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Her skin still felt a little tingly when she thought about how he had touched her (so gently…) And how he had felt where she had touched _him._

… Very firm.

She hid her face in her hands and tried not to giggle too loudly. Jeyne would hear.

Sansa had tried to make herself move on, but every time she tried to make herself focus on the guys at college she kept comparing them to Stannis in her mind. Sure they might be cute, and sure they might smile and flirt, but did they have eyes that made her heart race? A voice that had on at least three separate occasions forced her to squeeze her thighs together and bite the inside of her cheek? Did they command a room with effortless authority? 

And unlike most of the guys at school, he was always so _respectful_ of her. She was fairly sure he was one of the few grown men she had met who didn’t seem to consider her either a child or a dumb piece of ass. He spoke to her like she was an intelligent, capable adult.

The memory of how he had looked at her and told her that she was in a strong position to negotiate still sent shivers through her.

She knew she needed to forget about it. After all, it wasn’t like anything could ever _happen._ Shireen was her friend. Friends shouldn’t obsess over their friends’ dads. Those were just the rules. Even if the dads in question had really tight bodies for their age.

 _Maybe I should text him again?_ Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

It had probably not been a good idea to text him the night of the Winter Dance, but he hadn’t told her off for it. Maybe he hadn’t minded it?

_Why is it always so hard to read his moods?_

“Hello? Earth to Sansa?” Jeyne snapped her fingers in front of Sansa’s face. “Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” Sansa said, hoping that she wasn’t blushing. “What is it?”

“I was asking if you fancied a smoothie. I need to swing by the pharmacy and that smoothie place we tried last week is just next door.” Jeyne tapped her lip a few times. “I think I’ll try that chocolate avocado thing this time.” She dropped her hand and fixed Sansa with a pointed look. “But obviously you’re too busy mooning over that guy you refuse to tell me about.”

“I’m not mooning. And I’d love a smoothie, thanks. Anything with strawberries and lemon juice.”

“Come with me, then. I’m not your waitress.”

They chatted about school and had a minor argument about politics on the way to the smoothie place. Jeyne was convinced Addam Marbrand - the new Mayor of King’s Landing - would be a breath of fresh air, and just what the city needed, but Sansa had spent too much time around Lannisters while she had been dating Joff to believe that. Marbrand was a Lannister puppet; end of story. Nothing would change, and Tywin Lannister, Joff’s terrifying grandfather, would continue to be in charge of everything that really mattered. Probably until the day he died.

“Gods, are you sure you’re a lit major? You’re starting to sound like the poli-sci crowd,” Jeyne grumbled as they joined the queue at the smoothie place.

“Perish the thought,” Sansa said, scanning the menu.

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s a party tonight on campus. A bunch of guys from poli-sci and pre-law are throwing it to ‘kick the semester off with a bang’.” Jeyne rolled her eyes as she did the air quotes, but ruined the effect by smiling right after. “Want to come?”

Sansa considered it. It might be fun to get all dolled up and have a drink or two. She didn’t have any homework yet, and she wouldn’t be tutoring Shireen until next week. But she’d probably have to fend off drunk college guys. And the pre-law ones were always just _so_ convinced they were gifts from the gods.

“I don’t know…” Sansa said, wondering whether the ‘Strawberry Banana Blast’ would be better than the ‘Berry Lemon Dream’.

“Maybe you’ll find a new boyfriend?” Jeyne said, taking a step closer to the counter when the queue moved. “Someone who’s not a total loser.”

“Joff isn’t technically a loser,” Sansa said, pursing her lips. “He’s an evil asshole, but he’s a rich evil asshole. With connections.”

“Being an evil asshole makes you a loser no matter how rich you are. _And_ his bodyguard was definitely a loser, and you almost made out with him that night Joff set his Porsche on fire.”

Sansa suppressed a shudder at the memory of that night. It had been horrible and weird, and though the _incident_ with Sandor had not been the worst thing about it, she still didn’t like thinking about it too much.

“Sandor is not a loser. He’s doing really well, actually. He’s volunteering at this animal shelter just outside the city and he’s been sober for _months._ Arya sees him sometimes when she brings in the strays she finds. She says he seems happy.”

Sansa hoped he was. He deserved to be, after everything.

“Woop-de-doo,” Jeyne said, her face pulled into an expression of exaggerated boredom. But before she could say anything else it was their turn to step up to the counter and order their smoothies.

With their smoothies in hand (Strawberry Banana Blast for Sansa, Chocolate Explosion for Jeyne), and Jeyne’s prescription from the pharmacy stuffed into her purse, they started to make their way back to the apartment they shared. It was close to campus, but _much_ nicer than the dorms.

“I should have gone with the Berry Lemon Dream again,” Sansa said, draining the last of her smoothie as she and Jeyne entered their flat. She tugged on her scarf and shrugged her coat off, already much too warm in all her layers now that she was no longer outside.

“You should come with me to the party,” Jeyne said, getting rid of her own winter clothes at a more sedate pace.

“Is no one else you know going?” Sansa asked, sighing loudly. “Obviously I won’t make you go all by yourself, but I’d really much rather just stay in.”

The idea of texting Stannis again was becoming _very_ tempting. Especially since she’d managed to make him smile the last time they’d met. That had to mean something, right?

_He’s still Shireen’s dad, though._

“Nope. No one. You must come and be my chaperone,” Jeyne said, putting on an outrageous old fashioned ‘posh’ accent that was just _offensive_ and fluttering her eyelashes.

Resigning herself to her fate, Sansa looked at the ceiling and said, “why me?” as dramatically as she could.

The party actually started out quite well. Sansa put on one of her favourite cute little dresses, and tried a makeup look from a beauty blogger she’d bookmarked for just such an occasion. The false eyelashes had gone on without giving her even a little trouble, and she felt like she was having a _great_ hair day.

She should have known something would go wrong.

“Where have you been hiding my whole entire life?” a guy with blond hair and dimples asked her the minute she found herself alone. Jeyne was flirting with a really cute guy with oversized glasses, and Sansa had gone over to the punch bowl to give her friend some space.

“Um, in the lit department?” Sansa said, shooting him a quick smile. “Need a refill?”

Dimples handed her his red solo cup and she refilled it for him right after serving herself a ladle-full.

“Literature, huh?” he said, taking a sip of his punch.

She nodded, sipping her own drink and relishing the taste of vodka spreading over her tongue, making it tingle. She never got drunk off her ass, but she enjoyed alcohol. She’d been a good girl about drinking for the longest time, only ever having one glass of Champagne for New Year’s and at weddings like her parents expected. Drinking still felt a little forbidden, and she got a rebellious little thrill every time she did. “What about you?”

“Pre-law,” he said, straightening his back and looking smug.

Sansa internalised a sigh. “Cool. Planning on being the next Denny Crane, then?”

Dimples laughed and winked at her. “You know it, babe.”

_Ugh._

“I’m Harry,” he said after a brief pause, the dimples out in full force.

“Sansa,” she answered, grudgingly admitting to herself that the dimples _were_ kind of cute. Shame about the personality.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re beautiful, Sansa?” Harry asked, moving a little closer to her.

She closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. “Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say,” she said, opening her eyes and painting on a smile she didn’t really mean. But ladies were supposed to be polite, and Sansa was a lady.

Harry preened. “What can I say? I’m a sweet guy.”

She looked around, wondering whether she could be spending her time doing something less banal than suffering through Harry’s come-on. The guys in her vicinity all looked more drunk than him. Jeyne was chatting up the only guy who looked even slightly worthwhile.

Oh, well. At least Harry was keeping his hands to himself.

She took a deep breath and settled in for the long haul, sticking her hand inside her purse and grabbing her phone surreptitiously so that she’d be able to pull it out and pretend to take a call if she needed a quick excuse to escape.

“Clearly,” she said, keeping her fake smile firmly in place. “Tell me more.”

Harry launched into a speech about the Greatness of Harry and His Life Up Until Now, which allowed Sansa to let her mind wander while she took the occasional sip of her drink. All she had to do was nod every now and again, and make noises of agreement when it seemed like Harry needed some encouragement to keep talking. Sansa had been to much more enjoyable parties, but she didn’t want to leave before Jeyne managed to at least get her guy’s number, and while Harry blathered at her, she knew none of the others would be trying their luck.

Harry also had other uses.

“Could you keep an eye on my friend Jeyne while I go powder my nose?” Sansa asked, touching Harry’s arm and fluttering her eyelashes at him. “I’d really appreciate it.”

“You can count on me,” he said, giving her a jaunty salute and a wink.

Jeyne was still safely flirting with Cute Guy when Sansa returned to Harry. He even had a fresh drink waiting for her, which was practically _chivalrous._ It wasn’t the punch from before, but it tasted much better, so she didn’t mind. Harry said it was a Quiet Isle Iced Tea, and though Sansa knew there was probably alcohol in it, it really did taste just like iced tea.

Harry found them a couch to sit on, and he asked her a few questions about her. It made for a nice change of pace, and before she knew it she was on her second Quiet Isle Iced Tea. Or was it her third?

With the alcohol making her feel warm and mellow, she started to consider the merits of letting Harry call her sometime. He really was very cute, and though he did talk about himself a lot, he had listened a little to her too, and he wasn’t saying _utterly_ boring things. He had decent connections, judging by the names he had dropped, so she was sure her mother would approve of his family.

 _Are you really going to let yourself get fooled by another blonde with a good family name?_ a voice that sounded a lot like Arya hissed at her from the small part of her brain that was still sober.

Sansa noticed Jeyne waving at her and pushed her thoughts aside.

“I think my friend is leaving,” Sansa said to Harry. “I should probably get going, too.”

“What’s the rush?” Harry said, affecting an exaggerated heartbroken expression. “You know I’ll keep you safe, right?”

Jeyne and Cute Guy came over before Sansa had a chance to answer him, and she noticed the blush staining Jeyne’s cheeks immediately.

“Mike’s going to walk me home,” Jeyne said, her eyes full of stars, “do you want to come with?”

Sansa wanted to say yes. She knew it was the safest course of action. But she also didn’t want to play the third wheel.

“No, that’s all right. I’m just going to finish my drink and call a cab. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it on foot in these shoes.” She stuck out her foot for emphasis, briefly drawing everyone’s attention to her Louboutins.

“We can stay and share the cab with you,” Jeyne said, looking at Mike for confirmation. 

He nodded at once. “Yeah, sure thing.”

“No, no, you guys go ahead. I’ll be fine.” Sansa smiled as sunnily as she could manage, getting up from the couch to hug Jeyne good-bye. She ignored the way the room was spinning a little.

It took a few more rounds of: “oh, are you really really sure?” and “yes, please just go!” before Jeyne and Mike left, and by the time they were gone, Sansa was really starting to feel the effects of the alcohol she had been drinking.

Or actually, she felt kind of… not good. And everything was starting to seem really… wobbly.

Sansa took a step forward and almost twisted an ankle. She grabbed Harry’s arm for balance. Thankfully he was standing right beside her, and thankfully he managed to steady her.

“Hey, are you all right?” Harry looked genuinely concerned. “You’re really pale.”

“I need the bathroom,” Sansa said, her voice coming out oddly slurred.

Harry helped her get to the bathroom. She managed to lock the door before sinking to the floor.

The room was really spinning now.

It didn’t make any sense. Sansa hadn’t had _that_ much to drink, had she? And yet her heart was racing, and she felt clammy and uncomfortable. 

_Am I going to be sick? How strong were those Iced Tea things?_

Clumsily, she groped for her phone. Thankfully it was within easy reach in her purse.

Her stomach was in her throat, its contents threatening to come spewing out, and she hurriedly opened her contact list. She meant to call Jeyne. It only really made sense for her to call Jeyne. But despite her intentions, she called someone entirely different.


	6. A Damsel in Distress

It was after midnight, and Stannis really ought to be going to sleep. But he was sitting in his study; working. Trying not to look over at his sofa too often. Trying not to remember what Sansa Stark had looked like when she had sat there, her legs crossed at the ankles and her hair cascading down her back.

He jumped a little when his phone rang. He almost jumped again when he saw the name on the screen.

_Why on earth would she be calling me at this time of night?_

Stannis answered as quickly as he could, cursing when the stupid green symbol didn’t acknowledge his touch on the first try.

“Mr. Barath-thenon -” Sansa’s voice slurred on the other end of the line, “I think I need help.”

“Miss Stark?” He stood up from his chair, his heart pounding in his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m at a party, and I didn’t realise how strong the icy tea things were, my friend just left, and I think I’m going to be sick.” There was a whimper in her voice that _almost_ cleared away the spike of annoyance that had flared up when he realised that she was not in any danger. Just _drunk._

He had expected better of her.

“Where are you?” he asked, doing his best to sound patient. Despite his efforts, his voice came out clipped.

Sansa described a house on KLU’s campus with what sounded like great difficulty. 

“I’ll be right there,” he said. “Stay where you are.”

Stannis knocked on Shireen’s door on his way downstairs, not wishing to leave without letting her know. She didn’t answer the knock. He opened the door a crack as quietly as he could and saw that she was sleeping. A book was lying open on her chest, and her bedside lamp was lit. The sight was fairly familiar, but the uncomfortable, tight feeling it caused in his chest wasn’t. 

He hoped he would never receive the sort of call he had just received from Sansa from his daughter.

After leaving Shireen a note in case she woke, it took nearly twenty minutes for him to find the house Sansa had described, and it felt even longer than that to Stannis. He couldn’t help visualising the scenario he’d be likely to walk in on, over and over again. He’d heard too many news reports over the years not to fear the worst.

The scene he was actually faced with didn’t really alleviate any of his fears. Loud music was playing and drunk youths laughed and talked and danced all around the room he entered. Most were carrying red plastic cups. A few of the young men were shirtless. One of them had a tie around his his head. Another seemed to be soaked in beer.

And, was that…?

Stannis averted his eyes as quickly as he could, feeling his face heat up. A young woman was standing in the kitchenette, topless, allowing another girl to cover her breasts with whipped cream from a canister. 

_Shireen will never be allowed to drink. Ever. Or go to parties._

Stannis spotted a staircase and hurried up, relieved when he found that the music wasn’t quite as loud on the second floor. A short way from the landing there was a fair-haired young man who appeared to be talking to a door.

“Just come out. I promise I’ll get you home. Seriously!”

“Who are you talking to?” Stannis asked, scowling at the younger man.

“This girl, she said her name was Sansa. _Super_ hot. But she’s been in there for a while and I’m kind of worried about her.” He blinked at Stannis for a moment. “Uh, but who are you?”

Stannis glared. He had no idea. Who was he to Sansa right now? Her boss? Her friend’s father? “Who do you _think_ I am?” he eventually said, aiming for imperious scorn.

The young man’s eyes widened and he immediately held up his palms and took a large step back. “Look man, she didn’t say she was taken -”

For a second his mind went blank. He had expected the boy to draw his own conclusions, but this was not the conclusion he had expected. He clenched his jaw and tried to keep his face impassive. “Get out of my sight.”

The hapless young man did not need to be told twice.

“Miss Stark?” Stannis knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you in there?” 

The unmistakable sound of retching reached his ears, and he grimaced.

“It’s - “ He paused, wondering whether to call himself Mr. Baratheon. “It’s Stannis.”

He heard the sound of a toilet being flushed and then the faucet running. Moments later the door swung open.

Sansa’s hair was pulled into an elaborate plaited crown that wound itself around her head. Her face was pale, and her eyes were unfocused. The black makeup around them was smudged. She barely seemed to be keeping her balance on the frighteningly high heels she was wearing. (Stannis tried not to notice how long they made her bare legs look.) 

“Stannis?” she said in a hoarse voice, taking a wobbly step forwards.

Heat welled up, shooting through his veins at the sound of his name, and a heavy fog settled over his brain. Before he managed shake off the stupor and answer her, he had his arms full. She smelled like alcohol that was strong enough to make his eyes water, but she was also very soft and very warm.

Doing his best to steady her, he gritted his teeth, commanded the fog to disperse, and asked her to hold on and try to walk.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, her breath hot on his neck.

 _Fuck._ He swallowed. “Just walk,” he croaked out.

Sansa took a step and Stannis winced when it looked like her ankle bent at an angle no ankle should ever bend at. Thankfully it was only for a moment, and she seemed to recover just fine.

_Focus. She needs help._

“Can you take those shoes off?” he asked. “You’ll break something.”

Sansa started to act like she wanted to sit down, and Stannis soon understood it was probably because she wouldn’t be able to stand while dealing with the straps on her impractical footwear. He could tell it would take her a while to do this in her condition, and he sighed impatiently. For an insane moment he considered taking the shoes off for her. But he immediately realised that he’d only end up having to figure out how to put the shoes back on when it was time to go outside.

“Nevermind,” he said, clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath. He knew what the simplest way out of this situation was, but it was… inappropriate. And Stannis didn’t like how quickly his mind had supplied him with the solution. Or how it was refusing to come up with anything else.

_She probably won’t remember this. Don’t think about it. Just do it._

He picked her up, clenching his jaw to keep from grunting with effort. His back would probably complain in the morning. Sansa was a slender thing, but she was tall for a girl, and though he kept himself in fairly good shape, he did not go around carrying women regularly.

As if to torment him, she made it as easy on him as she could. Didn’t fight it. Put her arms around his neck in a way that made it hard to remember that she was _drunk._

Her body felt like it was burning him everywhere he was touching her.

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. It helped steady him a little. Now he just needed to walk.

Slowly, he made his way downstairs and out the front door, doing his very best not to jostle Sansa too much. At some point, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing hotly and almost making him stumble. Thankfully, no one bothered them on the way, though he caught a few raised eyebrows. Sansa mumbled something about her coat when the freezing air outside hit her skin, but Stannis was not about to turn back to look for it in that madhouse. She’d be able to find it later. He just quickened his pace and got her to the car as fast as he could.

Once he got her settled in the front seat of his car and himself buckled into the driver’s seat, Stannis realised he had no idea where she lived. There might have been something about it on her CV, but it had been months since he’d looked at it.

“Miss Stark?” he said, touching her shoulder. “Where do you live?”

“Mmm.”

“I need your address,” he said, touching her face this time after a moment of deliberation. Her cheek was very soft and perfectly smooth. It was harder than it should have been to pull his hand back.

“Mmmmmmm.” She turned away from him, but he could still see her face if he craned his neck.

Her mouth had fallen open. Her chest was rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

Stannis withdrew and clutched the steering wheel with both hands, staring out through the windshield without really seeing anything. He didn’t know what to do. If it were Robert in the front seat, he’d just take him somewhere quiet, make sure he was sleeping in a position where he wouldn’t choke on his vomit if he sicked up in his sleep, and leave him to it. But this was _Sansa._

_Why did she call me? Why didn’t she call one of her friends? Or that sister she’s always talking about?_

That was it!

Stannis’ heart started racing. Sansa had to have her phone with her. Her phone would have a contact list and Stannis would be able to call someone who would know where Sansa lived.

He looked at Sansa and noticed the thin strap that was hanging off one of her shoulders. The purse that was attached to the strap was resting on the seat on Sansa’s other side. He’d have to reach across her lap to get to it. Feeling his heartbeat quicken even more, he swallowed and tried to convince himself that there was nothing inappropriate about what he was doing.

Firmly ignoring the brief, appalling impulse to let his hand brush the part of her thighs that the short dress did not cover on his way to the purse, Stannis quickly got the thing open and fished her phone out.

It was locked.

Cursing under his breath, Stannis put it back.

He stared out into the night for a few more minutes, but eventually he sighed, and started the ignition.

He’d just have to take Sansa to his house. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have plenty of spare rooms. It would just be awkward - _very_ awkward - tomorrow morning. Shireen would probably ask questions. And Sansa... 

Would Sansa even remember calling him?

He sighed again and pulled away from the house, the sound of loud music and the din of young voices fading away as he did.


	7. The Hangover

Sansa woke up slowly. Her head was pounding, and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She managed to unstick it, but that just caused the taste of bile to make itself unmistakably known to her. At that moment, Sansa knew she would not hesitate to kill for a glass of water.

She opened her eyes without moving her head, hoping that it would so happen to be pointed toward her nightstand. She usually had a glass of water there.

It took her a moment to process what she saw instead of her nightstand.

A completely unfamiliar nightstand that was certainly not hers.  
An armchair containing one (1) Stannis Baratheon, seemingly fast asleep.

Under normal circumstances those two things would probably have prompted her to sit up and possibly shriek, but no part of her body was feeling good enough for her to move. Especially not her head. And making noises did not seem remotely _possible._

Except maybe she could groan? A little?

She tried it.

The pathetic noise had the effect she had hoped for: Stannis stirred in his chair.

Sansa watched as he straightened up and rubbed his neck, grimacing. Their eyes met.

“You’re awake,” he said, shooting up from the armchair. He took a single step toward the bed before stopping dead and clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here.” He grimaced and briefly placed a hand on the small of his back. “I only meant to make sure you wouldn’t be sick in your sleep.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes anymore.

Sansa’s insides and cheeks seemed to _burn_ with humiliation. Had she vomited? In front of him? At the same time her heart sped up uncontrollably. _He stayed to watch over me?_

“Where am I?” she croaked, thinking longingly of the glass of water on her nightstand at home.

“My house,” he said. He paused for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other. “I should see whether Shireen’s awake. Is there anything you need?”

Sansa wasn’t sure whether she’d ever seen Stannis look or sound so uncomfortable. She hated that it was because of her. She wished she could just ask him to go, and then help herself, but her head was screaming at her. “Water,” she begged, her cheeks still burning.

Without another word Stannis disappeared through a door on the other side of the bed she was lying in. She heard water running and soon he reappeared with a glass of water in his hand. 

“It’s just tap water,” he said, setting it down on the nightstand for her. “I don’t think I have any bottled water in the house. But I could ask Cressen to fetch you some later.”

“Tap’s fine,” she mumbled, already mentally preparing herself for the hardship of moving herself into a sitting position so that she’d be able to drink the water without choking on it.

“Come downstairs when you feel up to it.” He moved towards a door that Sansa assumed led outside.

“Wait,” she said, pulling herself into a sitting position with a small whimper of discomfort. It was even harder than she had expected. “Why am I here? What - what happened?”

Stannis rubbed his jaw for a moment before shoving both his hands into his pockets. His clothes were wrinkled from his night on the armchair. Sansa felt a sharp pang of guilt.

“You called me from a party you were at. You were quite drunk. I managed to get you to my car, but you passed out before you could give me your address. Since your phone was locked, I couldn’t call anyone you know to get your address.” He frowned, making a deep furrow appear between his eyebrows. “So I brought you here.”

“Oh.” Sansa could not remember calling him. All she could remember was drinking some really good iced tea with the guy with the dimples. Harry. His name had been Harry.

“I thought you would be more responsible,” Stannis said, meeting her eyes once more, his jaw muscles working. “I had thought I was exposing my daughter to a proper role model.” Judgment and disappointment was rolling off him in near-tangible waves.

To her horror, Sansa felt tears welling up. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that just made her headache worse. “Please, I never usually drink more than two or three drinks. This has never happened to me before,” she said, opening her eyes and fixing Stannis with a pleading look. “This guy I was with kept giving me iced tea. ‘Something Island Iced Tea’ I think he called it. It didn’t taste very alcoholic.”

Stannis’ eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Quiet Isle Iced Tea?”

She nodded eagerly, but stopped almost at once. She had never experienced a headache this bad. Without caring whether it was ladylike, she reached for the glass of tap water and gulped it down, desperate for the relief.

“Quiet Isle Iced Tea is one of the strongest cocktails in Westeros,” Stannis said, sounding _furious._

She winced and had to force herself to look at him again. The anger in his eyes made her want to look away again immediately, but she didn’t. “I didn’t know.”

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why did you call me?”

“I - I don’t know. I don’t remember calling you.” She had never felt this small.

Stannis gave her a look that made her heart hurt.

“But I think -,” she hurried to say, wincing at how raw her voice sounded, and doing her best not to start crying, “I think I called you because I trust you. I - I knew you’d help me.”

Deep down, Sansa knew that she had probably called him because she’d been wanting to talk to him, really talk to him, for a long time now. Because she had a stupid crush.

_He’s never going to see me as anything but an irresponsible, silly girl now._

Keeping from crying suddenly got a lot harder.

“Surely there are other people in the city who fit that description,” Stannis said, crossing his arms.

“Not - not really,” Sansa whispered. “I mean, my friend Jeyne would have tried to help me, probably, but she had been drinking too, and she was with a guy. And Arya… I never know whether Arya is actually in the city at any one time.” Sansa did try to keep up, but Arya was always off competing in fencing tournaments or chasing down someone’s escaped pet or a random wild animal for the shelter she volunteered for, or visiting her boyfriend. Arya might as well live in Essos for how often Sansa saw her. “And the rest of my family live all the way up north in Winterfell.” Sansa could hear the self-pity at the edge of her voice and hated herself for it.

She tried not to let herself feel abandoned most of the time. It had been _her choice_ to study in King’s Landing. And her parents were great about keeping in touch and making sure Sansa knew she was loved. But it hurt when she saw pictures on social media of her father just dropping in on Arya’s tournaments to watch her compete when he never did that for her. And her mother was so busy lately, helping Robb and his fiancée with their wedding preparations…

A part of her was jealous of Shireen. Stannis might not be the best at showing his feelings, but he was _there_ for his daughter.

Was it terrible that she wanted someone who would just be there for _her_?

“I see.” Stannis was looking at her with his brow furrowed again, but he didn’t seem angry. He didn’t really seem like he understood, either.

“I’m sorry. I’m keeping from checking on Shireen.” She bit her lip. “Are you going to tell her what happened?”

He blew out a noisy breath. “I supposed I’ll have to.”

Sansa slid back into a lying position and wished that she could just disappear into a hole in the ground. She _really_ did not want Shireen to find out that she accidentally got drunk off her ass and had to be rescued by Stannis.

 _And…_ Sansa scrunched up her face, a memory dancing just out of reach at the edge of her mind. _Did he carry me?_

Sansa wasn’t sure which was worse: the idea that Stannis might have been forced to carry her while she was drunk, or the idea that he might have been forced to carry her and she didn’t get to remember it properly. But it didn’t matter. She’d never know whether it had happened, because she’d never be able to work up the nerve to ask him. Honestly, what would she say? _‘Hey Stannis, did you by any chance carry me bridal style last night? And could you maybe do it again so I’ll be able to fully enjoy it?’_

“It was foolish to the point of idiocy to accept a drink you knew nothing about from a person you had only just met,” Stannis said, forcing her to open her eyes again, all thoughts of being carried pushed aside. The judgement and disapproval was back in his voice, and he looked as if he were clenching every muscle in his entire body. “What were you thinking?”

Sansa had to close her eyes again and choke back a sob. “I don’t know,” she managed to get out before she had to stop talking. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

She heard another loud sigh from where Stannis was standing. “I’m going to go check on Shireen. Breakfast will be served in half an hour.”

Sansa let herself cry when he was gone. It hurt to cry. Her head was screaming with pain, and her throat was so raw that each sob felt like she were trying to swallow a thousand knives. But she knew it would hurt more to keep it all in.

She drank three glasses of water, standing on shaky legs in the bathroom. She washed her face.

By the time Shireen knocked, she knew she’d be able to talk without bursting into tears again.

“Are you all right?” Shireen said, a concerned crease between her eyebrows. She was carrying a bundle of something that looked like clothes.

“Not really,” Sansa whispered, her throat not up to speech at a regular volume. “How much did your dad tell you?“

“Not that much,” Shireen said, frowning. “Just that you had too much to drink.”

There was an awkward pause.

For something to do, Sansa gestured at the bundle. “Are those for me?”

Shireen nodded and held the clothes out for Sansa to take. “Yeah, I hope they fit.”

“Thank you.” Sansa tried to put every ounce of sincerity she had into the words.

“I brought some painkillers, too,” Shireen said, reaching into a pocket and showing Sansa a small bottle of ibuprofen. “Dad doesn’t like painkillers, but I keep a stash for, you know, cramps and stuff.” Shireen went a pink and looked at the floor.

Sansa took the bottle, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. If she hadn’t just cried herself out, she was certain she’d be in tears again. “Thank you so much, Shireen,” she whispered, “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Shireen said, looking up again. “So don’t mention it.”

Nodding fiercely enough to make her head hurt, Sansa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Shireen, hugging her tightly.

Shireen looked sheepish, but pleased when they broke apart. “I have to go downstairs, but I’ll see you at breakfast in a bit.” She walked to the door, but paused before leaving. “Oh, and there are towels and soaps and things if you want a quick shower.”

Sansa did have a quick shower. She also drank two more glasses of water, and took a slightly larger dose of ibuprofen than the bottle suggested, but not as much as the dentist had recommended when she’d had her wisdom teeth out.

Once she was clean and wearing Shireen’s fresh-smelling clothes, Sansa felt almost human. That is, if she ignored the horrible knots in her stomach.

If she lost her job as Shireen’s tutor over last night, would she still be allowed to visit Shireen as a friend? Or would Stannis want her to stay far away from his daughter, now that she had proved to be such a terrible role model?

Losing the chance to see whether her crush on Stannis might ever become something more was one thing - Sansa was sure she’d be able to get over that in time - but losing Shireen’s friendship would break her heart.

Sansa lingered in the guest room for as long as she could, dreading breakfast. Dreading the thought of seeing Stannis again and hearing him tell her that she needn’t bother coming back.

But she couldn’t linger forever.

_Time to face the music._

Breakfast was strange. Stannis sat on one end of the table, in the seat he usually occupied at dinner, his face hidden behind a newspaper. Shireen had already poured Sansa a cup of tea, and still looked desperately concerned.

“What happened last night?” she asked once Sansa had accepted the tea and placed a piece of toast on her plate.

Sansa took a deep breath and told Shireen a slightly shorter, less emotional version of the story she’d told Stannis.

“It must have felt awful,” the Shireen said, her eyes full of sympathy. “I would have been so frightened if it were me.”

“I was just being really stupid,” Sansa said, staring at her toast and feeling humiliated all over again. “I should have known how much alcohol is in that cocktail. Or I could have looked it up or something.”

“I trust you are going to learn from Sansa’s mistakes, Shireen,” Stannis said from the other side of the newspaper, wintry disapproval in his tone. “I expect you to stay well away from parties and alcohol until you and your peers are old enough to behave _responsibly._ ”

“Yes, Dad.” Shireen’s tone was meek, but her expression was thoughtful. “Although Sansa really wasn’t trying to be irresponsible. That Harry person should have told her what was in the drink he was giving her.”

Sansa wished with all of her heart that he had. She never would have had so many if she’d known how strong those drinks were.

“Of course he should have,” Stannis said sharply, putting the paper down with a loud rustle, “but I expect he was hoping to take advantage of her, so naturally he kept it to himself.”

“There’s nothing natural about a guy trying to take advantage of a girl who trusts him,” Shireen said quietly. “At least, that’s what you’ve always told me.”

Stannis froze, staring at his daughter without so much as blinking.

The tension was too much for Sansa to handle in her current state. “I really can’t thank your father enough for coming to get me,” she said, hoping to diffuse it. She didn’t want to believe that Harry would have taken advantage of her; he had seemed genuinely concerned on the other side of the bathroom door. All he’d talked about was getting her home.

 _Joffrey seemed nice too, at first,_ her brain reminded her gently.

Stannis blinked slowly, turning to look at her instead of Shireen. “I couldn’t very well leave you there, could I?” There was a red tinge to his face that Sansa wasn’t sure whether to attribute to anger or embarrassment.

Shireen looked between Sansa and Stannis, a worried frown on her face. “Sansa is still going to be my tutor this semester, though? Dad?”

Sansa held her breath.

Stannis put his cutlery down and wiped his mouth with his linen cloth. He gave both her and Shireen measured looks. “Yes. Provided that nothing like this happens again.”

It took a lot of effort to keep her composure; Sansa wanted nothing more than to sag with relief.

A wide smile broke out on Shireen’s face. “I’m sure it won’t.” She looked at Sansa. “It won’t, right?”

“Of course it won’t. I’m appalled that it happened even once,” Sansa was quick to assure her, eyes flicking towards Stannis to take in his reaction.

He still looked disapproving, but she could see his shoulders relax by a margin.

The knots in Sansa’s stomach loosened. She hadn’t lost her job. She hadn’t ruined everything _completely._


	8. Politics

Stannis did not speak to Sansa, or even see very much of her, during the first month of the semester. He tried to tell himself that it was a good thing; that avoiding her was the right choice. She had disappointed him, he told himself, and behaved like the very _young_ woman that she was.

Unfortunately the diminished contact did not make his memories of having her in his arms any fainter. Her warmth still felt seared into his skin, and his thoughts would return to the night of the party - the night of the _Incident_ \- alarmingly often.

As much as he tried to focus on how foolish she had been, and how she had put herself in an absurd amount of danger, his daughter’s words kept repeating themselves in his head, twisting his anger into guilt.

_”There’s nothing natural about a guy trying to take advantage of a girl who trusts him.”_

Sansa had told him that she had called him because she trusted him. But should she trust him? Had he not taken advantage of her? Carrying her really hadn’t been the only option. Yes, he’d done it because it had been an easy, quick, and safe way to get her out, but he’d also done it because he’d wanted to. He had _enjoyed_ the sensation of holding her even though she had practically been unconscious. He couldn’t deny it. Not when his mind kept going back to that moment. Not when the sensations returned to plague him in those vulnerable moments between sleep and wakefulness, heating his blood and making him _ache._

_Fuck._

It really should not have come as any kind of surprise to him that when he finally did bite the bullet and sit down with Shireen and Sansa for dinner one Thursday night, he completely lost the ability to converse with either girl like an intelligent human being.

Sansa’s hair was arranged in a neat plait that hung down the middle of her back like thick rope. She had threaded golden ribbons through the plait here and there, and every time Stannis closed his eyes he was accosted by a vivid mental image of those same ribbons, wrapped around his fingers.

Observing Shireen rather than Sansa did not really help. Everything Shireen did these days reminded him of Sansa. It was obvious, when he looked them side by side, that his daughter was - consciously or unconsciously - copying everything Sansa did, from her impeccable posture, her cultured turn of phrase, to her soft, feminine little smiles.

“Did you have a good day at work, Dad?” Shireen eventually asked him, after he had failed to join every other topic of conversation the girls had come up with in favour of glaring at his food. They were all nearly done eating.

“Mm,” he said, grimacing.

“That good, huh?” Shireen said, sounding more like herself than Sansa now, and looking amused. “Was Uncle Robert being a pain?”

“No more than usual,” Stannis managed to mutter.

“Uncle Robert tends to forget that he actually needs to do some work every now and then,” Shireen stage-whispered to Sansa, plucking the last roll from its basket.

“Mr. Lannister used to say that it was a lucky day for King’s Landing when Robert quit politics,” Sansa said quietly, her expression remote. She had put her cutlery down before speaking, and Stannis noticed that she didn’t pick it back up even though she usually never left uneaten food on her plate.

His loathing for the Lannisters overrode the awkwardness that had been tying is tongue into knots. Suddenly it was easy to speak. “One would think he would have been disappointed. After all, his daughter lost her place of prominence when Robert quit,” Stannis said, reaching for his water and taking a sip.

“He doesn’t really care about Cersei,” Sansa said. “I think he’s pinning his hopes on making Joffrey mayor when he grows up.”

Stannis did not fail to notice the way Sansa stiffened when she said his nephew’s name. He knew there was history there, but according to Robert it all ended amicably enough. Clearly there was more to it than Robert seemed to think.

“ _Joff?_ ” Shireen said, sounding disgusted. “But he’s awful!”

“I know,” Sansa said. “And I think Mr. Lannister knows it, too. If it were up to him, he’d make Jaime mayor.”

Stannis snorted. “That’s optimistic to the point of foolishness.” Jaime Lannister had long since abandoned his family. The last Stannis had heard, the man was living in Tarth, running a fairly successful hotel along with the heiress who owned the property.

“Yes, it doesn’t seem very likely that Mr. Lannister will get his wish, does it?” Sansa said, shooting Stannis a small, innocent smile. The smile vanished quickly, however, replaced by a sympathetic expression that actually looked sincere. “It’s so unfortunate. I do feel sad for him.”

Stannis felt his eyebrows rise up as he stared at Sansa. Her performance was astounding. If it hadn’t been for that brief smile, he might almost have believed her.

“Feeling sad for Tywin Lannister is a waste of time,” he heard himself say, his eyes still fixed on Sansa. “He’s got one of his puppets running the city now, and he’ll probably have another puppet ready to go once Marbrand has been chewed up. Whether it will be Joffrey or someone else is of no consequence,” Stannis said, watching carefully for her reaction.

Sansa’s sympathetic expression vanished, and her face became impassive. She tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps someone should challenge Mr. Lannister’s candidate the next time there’s an election? Someone with integrity. Someone who will actually put the interests of the people above their own interests.”

He resisted the urge to sigh. “You really are a Stark, aren’t you?”

Sansa lifted her chin. “I am. Are you saying I’m wrong to hope a good person will run for mayor for once?”

Stannis shook his head. “Of course you’re not wrong. But it’s never going to _work._ The voters are imbeciles who wouldn’t know a lion from a sheep if their life depended on it, and on the rare occasion when a halfway decent person stumbles onto the political stage, it takes Tywin Lannister and his ilk about a second to bribe them or threaten them until they fall in line or leave.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t let him bribe you or threaten you,” Shireen said sweetly, polishing off the last of her potatoes.

He clenched his jaw, casting her an irritated look. “Be that as it may, I’m not a politician.”

Sansa picked up her glass of water and looked at him over the rim. “What a shame.”

He shook his head at the pair of them. “Even if I were interested in changing careers and leaving Robert to bankrupt the company in my absence, the next mayoral elections won’t be held for another four years. I suggest you get used to Marbrand.”

“Dad, we’re just talking,” Shireen said, rolling her eyes. “You take everything so seriously.”

Sansa nodded absently in agreement, but when Stannis next met her eyes, he saw that she was deep in thought.

He couldn’t look away.

He had known since he had first glanced at her CV that she was an accomplished young woman with excellent grades, but somehow her intelligence had _still_ managed to take him by surprise. Cultivating an appearance of elegance and good breeding while maintaining a flawless academic record was one thing, but paying attention to the convoluted King’s Landing politics, and making accurate deduction about the motivations and desires of someone like Tywin Lannister, was quite another.

She might still be afflicted with some of the naivete that seemed to cling to the Starks, and she certainly had much to learn about the world - judging by the Incident - but Stannis got the sense that she wasn’t _blind_ to it all. Just… determined to make the world become what she wanted it to be.

_And she’ll probably do it._

Eventually he managed to force himself to look away from her, his heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears.

Feeling as if he could not get away quickly enough, Stannis excused himself from the dinner table and went straight to his study.

***

“I’m sorry about Dad,” Shireen said, flopping down on her bed. “He’s acting so weird lately.”

“No need to apologise,” Sansa said, sitting down on the bed, too. “He wasn’t being that weird.” Well, it had been a little strange when he’d abruptly left the table without saying anything, but that was just… him, she supposed.

“He was _staring_ at you,” Shireen said, furrowing her brow. “Weirdly.”

Sansa felt herself blush. “Was he?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

“Well, if he was looking at me, it didn’t bother me,” Sansa said, trying to inject a note of finality into her tone. She _had_ noticed him looking. It had filled her with hope. Most likely a fool’s hope, but she couldn’t help it. She still liked him, and though she had been trying to make herself accept that after that awful party Stannis would never see her as anything but a dumb kid, there was a part of her that was convinced that she’d be able to make him see her as a adult if she just kept trying. Possibly he might even be persuaded to see her as… someone desirable.

 _He talked to me the way he used to talk to me tonight,_ she thought, her heart fluttering. _Maybe it’s really working._

“Hmm.” Shireen did not look convinced.

Sansa didn’t say anything. Shireen’s expression had brought her back to earth. _He’s her father,_ she reminded herself, her stomach knotting up. _You need to get over this stupid crush._

“Are you _sure_ you don’t mind it?” Shireen was chewing her lip and her brow was furrowed.

_What does she want me to say? That her dad can stare all he wants? That I sort of hope I’ll eventually figure out a way to make out with him?_

Sansa touched Shireen’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I promise I meant what I said - your dad doesn’t bother me. I’ll be your tutor as long as you need me, and I’ll be your friend for much longer than that.”

Shireen straightened out and gave Sansa a searching look. “Pinky swear?”

“Of course,” Sansa said, guilt eating painfully at her insides as they hooked pinkies.


	9. Showers

Stannis left his study with a scowl fixed firmly in place. _What on earth is Shireen thinking, making all that noise?_

It was a Sunday afternoon, and he had been hoping to use the peace and quiet of his home to get through a few reports he hadn’t been able to read at work. There were always constant interruptions at the office. He had thought he’d be free of them at his house.

“No seriously, listen to me! You have to have a shower or something! Look at the state of you!” Shireen exclaimed loudly, sounding disturbingly like his mother when she was alive.

Stannis stopped in the middle of the staircase and stared at the scene in the foyer.

Sansa Stark had obviously just arrived for her afternoon tutoring session with Shireen. There wasn’t anything unusual about that. What _was_ unusual was the fact that she was dripping wet. Almost as if someone had dropped her in a swimming pool in her clothes, winter coat and all. Her hair was plastered to her face, and her makeup was running a little. Her teeth were chattering.

_Is it really raining this much?_

“What in the seven hells happened? Did you walk here in the rain?” he heard himself ask.

“I took the bus, actually,” Sansa said, hugging herself and doing what looked like her best to suppress a violent fit of shivering. “Arya - um, my sister borrowed my car.”

“It’s not that far from the bus stop,” Stannis said, frowning.

“The bus sped off right after she got out and she got doused by this huge puddle it drove through,” Shireen said, an anxious look on her face. “Which is why I’ve been trying to tell her to go have a shower.”

“Of course she’ll have a shower,” Stannis said, already composing an angry letter to the city’s bus service in his mind. Didn’t they teach their drivers any manners? “Could you go find her something dry to wear? I’ll show her to the guest room.”

“Please - I don’t want to be a bother,” Sansa said, still hugging herself.

“We’d be disgraceful hosts if we left you in this condition,” Stannis said sharply. “Follow me.”

Sansa followed him without another word while Shireen disappeared to - presumably - find Sansa something dry to wear.

Stannis heard Sansa let out a little ‘oh’ of recognition when he showed her inside the same guest room he had deposited her in when she had been passed out after the Incident.

He opened the door to the en suite and turned the lights on for her, scanning the contents of the room to make sure she’d have towels and soap. Everything looked to be in good order.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, turning around to go. His heart jumped into his throat when he nearly bowled Sansa over. She had been standing right behind him and he hadn’t realised. She was looking up at him with those _eyes._

“Thank you.”

His throat went dry, and his brain picked this moment to loudly point out the fact that soon she would be naked. In his house. “You’re welcome,” he croaked out, feeling his palms get embarrassingly clammy.

He managed to walk away at a dignified pace, though the part of him that was still a gangly, uncoordinated adolescent without a ‘single cool cell in his body’ (according to Robert) desperately wanted to run.

Stannis spent the next half an hour hiding in his study, doing his very best not to think about what might be going on in the guest room. It didn’t really work. The more he tried not to think about it, the more his brain fixated. Every time he closed his eyes his imagination ran wild with images of long pale legs - legs he had touched when he had carried her - and water streaming over smooth curves. He hadn’t failed to notice how her hair was much darker when it was wet, and he kept picturing the way it would stick to her back like a second skin.

He ended up pacing, flexing his hands, and trying to count backwards in his head to distract himself. But his ears were convinced they could hear water running, and his nose determined that he could smell soap. He couldn’t stop swallowing, and his heart was doing its best to hammer its way out of his chest. 

In the end he burst out of his study, determined to go to the kitchens for a glass of water to quench the thirst that would not leave him alone.

He had to blink several times when the first thing he saw in the corridor was Sansa. More precisely: Sansa Stark, wearing nothing but a towel. She seemed to be walking towards Shireen’s bedroom, her back to Stannis.

He wasn’t sure, but he supposed he must have made some sort of sound.

She turned around. “Oh.” Her eyes widened and she placed a hand on the the towel where she had tucked it in over her chest. Her skin looked flushed, her hair was wet and tangled, and the towel only covered her from her chest to mid-thigh. Her legs were just as long and smooth and porcelain white as he remembered. And she was naked underneath that towel. She was literally a single well placed tug away from being naked right in front of him.

He couldn’t speak. All he could do was _stare._

The look on her face changed. The surprise melted away and was replaced with something… else. Oddly, it didn’t look like embarrassment. He’d seen her look embarrassed, and her lips had definitely not hinted at a smile like that when she’d been embarrassed. 

She lowered her hand in a way that looked… deliberate... letting it hang casually at her side. She did not at all appear ready to grab the towel if it were to slip. 

He swallowed.

“I was going to ask Shireen, but maybe you can help me?” she said, taking a step closer. Her eyes were fixed on his face, clearly looking for something. He didn’t know what. “I couldn’t find a hairdryer in the guest room, and I usually always dry my hair before getting dressed. Otherwise it drips water all down the back of my shirts.” She blushed, but didn’t look away from him.

“There should be a hairdryer in there,” he said, his voice coming out as if he had spent the last years subsisting on a diet of whiskey and cigarettes.

Sansa took yet another step closer. She bit her lip. “Will you help me find it?”

He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt her touch his arm; his attention had been so focused on her face that he hadn’t noticed her hand move.

“I - “ He cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a second. _Get it together._ “Of course.”

Walking at a brisk pace, hoping to cool his blood a little, Stannis headed for the guest room’s en suite. The room was still steamy, and smelled pleasantly of soap. He forced himself not to breathe in too deeply or loudly, and hurriedly started to dig around in the cupboard where he believed some electrical equipment was kept. He found a hairdryer, an electric razor, and a device that looked like a torture implement.

“Oh, a hair-curler!” Sansa said, sounding pleased. “It’s a good brand, too.”

Stannis had absolutely no idea what to say to that. “Did you need anything else?”

“A brush?” Sansa was biting her lip again, white teeth digging into plump flesh.

He drew in a sharp breath and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. Somehow he managed to find a comb in a drawer. “Will this do?”

“It should help get the tangles out,” Sansa said, nodding. “Thank you.” She shifted her stance, causing a tiny sliver of thigh to peek through the place where the towel overlapped.

Stannis looked away as quickly as he could, but she couldn’t have failed to notice the way he had just... groped her with his eyes. _Fuck._ He felt blood rush to his face, and more horrifyingly, to his groin.

“I’m really so sorry to be such a nuisance.” Her voice was soft and laced with what sounded like genuine regret and something else he couldn’t place.

“No apology necessary,” he said, the words coming out half choked. He needed to get away from her. _Now._ “I’ll tell Shireen you’ll be out soon.”

For the second time in less than an hour, he forced himself not to run.

***

Sansa waited until Stannis had closed the door to the guest room before letting out a little squeal.

She couldn’t _believe_ what had just happened.

Her day had gone from one of the clumsiest, annoying days of her life to the most exhilarating one in the space of an hour. First she’d gone outside, car keys in hand, only to find that her car wasn’t where she’d parked it. She had almost called the _police._ But, on a hunch, she’d checked her phone for messages first. Sure enough, she’d found a text from Arya. 

_Borrowed your car, mine’s in the shop. Nothing serious, just a fender bender. Thx!_

After closing her eyes, counting to ten, and _severely_ regretting her decision to give Arya a spare key to her car, Sansa had made her way to the bus stop. Where she had found out that she had missed the bus that would take her to Shireen’s neighbourhood by almost a whole minute. But there was nothing to do except wait for the next one. In the rain.

She might have been able to put that all behind her if it hadn’t been for the spectacular way the bus had doused her with water as it sped off, forcing her to knock on the Baratheons’ door looking like a drowned cat. As if she hadn’t humiliated herself enough in front of Stannis and Shireen to last her a lifetime.

But who would have guessed that getting drenched in filthy street water would lead to such an intense moment?

She closed her eyes and tried to remember every detail of the way Stannis had just looked at her. His eyes had been _glued_ to her. She’d felt his gaze almost like a touch. 

Another little squeal escaped.

She started working the comb through her hair distractedly, wondering whether she’d be able to get Stannis to look at her like that again.

_Maybe if I forget to put Shireen’s sweater on over the cami she brought me…_

Shireen was about Sansa’s height, but she was less endowed in the chest area. Without a bra, Sansa’s breasts would be _extremely_ noticeable if she wore the cami and nothing over it.

Sansa’s spent an enjoyable minute fantasising about the way Stannis’ eyes might linger before her conscience caught up with her, pouring guilt into her stomach and knotting it up.

Shireen would probably be upset with her if she started shoving her breasts in Stannis’ face like that. And if Shireen found out that Sansa had considered letting her towel ‘slip’ when Stannis had been in the bathroom with her she’d probably be even _more_ upset.

_I’m a horrible friend._

Sansa spent the time it took to dry her hair getting her hormones under control and reminding herself that she was a _lady._ Ladies did not consider letting their towels slip. Ladies did not forget to put on sweaters. Ladies definitely did not consider wearing a short skirt next time, and finding a way to bend over to to pick something up while Stannis was watching.

Once her hair was dry and she was fully dressed, Sansa took a moment to centre herself. She would not let her stupid crush ruin things. Even if it seemed like Stannis might be _susceptible._

_It was nothing. The fact that he looked at me while I was a deep breath away from being naked just means that he’s not gay. The end._

Sansa almost believed herself.


	10. A Talk With Davos

Stannis felt as if something had changed ever since Sansa Stark had showered at his house.

He ran into her more often. She kept touching her hair whenever they exchanged so much as a word. She nearly always stayed for dinner when invited, and her skirts seemed to be _shrinking._ (Well, the weather outside was improving as spring approached. That might explain the skirts.) But the most disturbing change was something that Stannis just could not ignore.

She kept laughing whenever they spoke. _Laughing._ As if his remarks were some of the most clever, witty, and amusing things she had ever heard.

“Laughing, you say?” Davos said, raising a brow. “How dare she.”

Stannis scowled at his friend. “Don’t give me that. Just tell me how to make her stop.” He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to put up with it all. 

“It sounds like this woman is just flirting with you. If you want her to stop, just tell her that you aren’t interested. Or that you’re taken.”

Stannis stared at Davos. _Flirting._ Davos thought Sansa was flirting with him. “That’s not it,” he said, shaking his head a little to dislodge the absurd idea from his brain. Sansa was only nineteen. (Well, possibly twenty. He wasn’t sure whether her nameday was early or late in the year.) She couldn’t be flirting with him.

“Are you sure you won’t tell me who she is?” Davos went on, tilting his head to the side. “I might be able to give you better advice if you told me more.”

“She’s - she’s younger than I am. By quite a few years.” Two decades. He tried not to wince at the thought.

“Yes, from your description I guessed she might be. She’s flirting more like a young woman might. The older they get, the more likely they are to just be direct.”

Stannis clenched his jaw. “But why on earth would she be flirting with me?”

Davos shrugged. “Why not?”

He shot his friend an irritated look. “I’m not under the impression that I look like Renly.”

“Not all women like the same things,” Davos said, pursing his lips. “But if you’re convinced she hasn’t fallen for your charm, there’s always your money.”

 _Charm._ Stannis suppressed a snort. “She’s old money.”

Davos chuckled and shook his head. “Let me get this straight,” he began, looking Stannis straight in the eyes, “a beautiful young woman with her own fortune is flirting with you, and you want her to… stop?”

He scowled. Of course it sounded ridiculous when he phrased it like that. “As I said. She’s _young,_ ” he bit out.

Davos stopped laughing and furrowed his brow. “How young?”

“She’s in college.”

“Hm.”

Stannis tensed up and clutched the armrest of his office chair. The leather creaked, but his corner office was otherwise uncomfortably silent. “Well? Is that all you have to say?”

Davos stood up from the chair in front of Stannis’ desk and went over to the windows. They were on the 30th floor, so the view was fairly decent. Sometimes, when Stannis was stuck on some problem or other, he’d stand right where Davos now stood, and stare at the ocean until he had a brainwave. Davos did not really seem to be taking the ocean view in, however. “It’s the Stark girl, isn’t it?” he finally asked, still looking out the window. “Shireen’s tutor?”

The bottom fell out of Stannis’ stomach. This was why he hadn’t talked to Davos about the Sansa situation before. Davos was too damn perceptive. For a moment Stannis considered lying, but Davos would probably see right through that, too. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Yes.”

“That… complicates things.”

Stannis resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “You don’t say.”

“You know of her history with your family, I take it?”

“I know she used to go out with my nephew, if that’s what you mean.”

Davos turned around and looked at Stannis for what felt like a very long moment. “You know he mistreated her, then?”

Stannis felt his insides freeze. He hadn’t given the matter very much thought, but now that Davos asked him, it seemed like something Stannis should have guessed. Joffrey was a vile boy. _Of course_ he had mistreated Sansa.

“How?” he heard himself ask, his voice sounding far away.

Davos frowned. “I don’t know the details. Just the gossip that made the rounds at the office at the time. Apparently the worst thing the boy did had something to do with setting things on fire. The girl wasn’t seriously harmed, but the talk was that it was a near thing. Someone said something about the boy’s bodyguard having to get involved to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Others say Tywin Lannister himself had to step in.”

Stannis sat very still, but his head was reeling nonetheless. How had he not known any of this?

There was a stretch of silence.

“She might not be flirting with you after all,” Davos said, scratching the back of his head. “I mean… she might just be… trying to be nice.”

He grunted, still deep in thought. _How can she possibly be flirting with me if my own nephew treated her so abominably? Why did she apply to be Shireen’s tutor at all? Shouldn’t she want to stay as far away from all Baratheons as possible?_

“But if she is… you could try discouraging her,” Davos said, walking slowly back to his chair and sitting back down. “Go on a date with someone. Take yourself off the - er - market.”

Stannis snorted, Davos’ absurd idea pulling him out of his thoughts. “Who should I go on a date with? That Greyjoy woman you hate from the DA’s office?”

Davos made a pained face. “Please don’t. She’s frightening.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Stannis tried not to glance at his computer’s screen, but he could see that he had several unread emails he should really deal with before he went home.

“These things can get out of hand, Stannis. If she is trying to get your attention, you should take her aside and tell her - _gently_ \- that you aren’t interested in her like that, and that she should focus on boys her own age.”

Stannis felt his face warm up. His imagination had latched onto the first half of what Davos had said - about taking Sansa aside. The idea of talking to her again in private made his heart beat a little faster.

A memory of the way she had looked and sounded when she had asked about his favourite stories floated to the forefront of his mind. He moved his tongue, trying to unstick it from the roof of his mouth. 

_Stop._

Irritated with himself, with Davos, and this whole situation, he made himself scowl. “Because she’s had so much success with boys her own age, you mean?” He thought of Joffrey and the _Incident,_ and could not help but think Sansa would be better off staying far away from boys her own age.

_I would never hurt her like those cretins._

Davos gave him a sharp look. “You’re not interested in her like that, are you?”

He straightened his back and hoped his face wasn’t betraying any of his thoughts. “Of course not.”

His friend blinked at him, eyebrows rising up. But he didn’t say anything.

“I should get back to work,” Stannis said, needing Davos to go and stop looking at him like that.

“Sure,” Davos muttered, getting up from his chair again. “I’m going to head home. See you tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Stannis was already staring at one of his emails, pretending to read it.

As soon as Davos was gone and the door to Stannis’ office had closed behind him, Stannis dropped his shoulders and blew out a long breath.

He had been hoping that talking to Davos would _help._ But now everything just felt more complicated. Could it really be that Sansa had been flirting with him lately? Was she… interested… in him? And how did her past with Joffrey figure into it all?

His stomach turned over at the thought of what could have happened to her if she had stayed with Joffrey. Davos had said something about setting things on fire.

_Didn’t Joffrey set his car on fire that one time?_

Had Sansa perhaps been in that car?

Stannis pushed the thought aside, his stomach doing several more turns. Davos must have been right the second time around. Sansa wasn’t flirting with him. She was just being nice.

It would make sense. Sansa was a very nice young woman. _Genuinely_ nice. Sweet, even. And kind.

 _Beautiful, too,_ a low voice at the back of his mind supplied. _Intelligent, promising…_

Stannis clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment. He needed to stop thinking about Sansa like that. She was Shireen’s tutor. That was _all._

“Just answer your bloody emails,” he muttered and forced himself to focus on his screen.


	11. A Cup of Tea

Stannis had taken to avoiding the kitchens when he knew Sansa was in the house. If he needed anything, he’d ask Cressen to bring it. But the household staff had weekends off, and on this particular Sunday afternoon, Stannis was craving a strong cup of tea.

He’d just have to risk it.

The water hadn’t even come to a boil when Sansa showed up. _How does she always seem to know when I’m in here?_

“I heard the kettle,” Sansa said, answering his unvoiced question and smiling. “Making tea?” She wrapped a long lock of auburn hair around one finger, twirling it idly.

 _Obviously,_ he thought, tearing his eyes away from her. “Yes.”

“May I have a cup?”

He nodded, hoping that she wouldn’t say anything else if he didn’t encourage conversation. Her hair looked so soft when it was loose. It always looked soft.

“Should I do that?” she offered when the water had boiled, and his hands refused to perform the simple action of scooping his preferred blend into the teapot. She didn’t wait for him to answer. Her shoulder brushed against his, and he was rooted to the ground like an _idiot,_ and seven hells she smelled good…

Eventually he managed to stumble away from the counter, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“Let me just grab the kettle,” Sansa said, brushing against him again to reach the boiling hot water.

His blood felt like it was boiling, too. _She did that on purpose._ He was sure she did it on purpose. He watched her, feeling almost as if he were in a trance, as she finished making the tea.

“Now we just have to let it sit for a few minutes,” Sansa said, turning to face him. For a moment she just looked at him. He tried not to look into her eyes, but he couldn’t help it.

It would be so easy to reach out and touch her.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, his brain apparently shorting. “About my nephew.”

“Joffrey?” Sansa blinked at him as if he’d just told her he wanted to become a ballerina.

He nodded.

She worried at her lower lip. “Has he done something?”

“I - “ Stannis paused. This was completely inappropriate. What had possessed him to bring this up? “I know he didn’t treat you well when you two were a couple. I doubt he’s apologised. As his _relative_ ,” his lip curled in disgust, “I feel it is my duty to apologise on his behalf.”

Sansa was still blinking at him. “Oh,” she eventually said. “Thank you.”

They stared at each other.

Slowly, Sansa wrapped her arms around herself. “How much do you know?”

“Not very much,” Stannis was forced to admit. The only people who knew the facts were people he preferred not to speak to, if possible. Aside from Sansa herself, of course. “I gather you were somehow involved when Joffrey set fire to his car.”

Sansa looked at the floor. “Yeah… that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“What else did he do?”

She sighed. “He taught me that not all that glitters is gold.” She hugged herself more tightly around the middle. “And he taught me never to isolate myself from my true friends and family again.”

They were silent for a moment. Stannis hoped she’d say more, but it didn’t seem like she was going to offer any more information.

“If there’s anything I can do,” he began, a frustrating useless feeling filling him up.

“Thank you, Stannis,” Sansa said, meeting his eyes again, dropping her arms, and straightening her back, “but it’s in the past. And there’s really no need to apologise on Joffrey’s behalf. You did nothing wrong.” She offered a tentative smile. “We can’t help who we’re related to.”

He crossed his arms and dropped them almost at once. “Of course.” His body felt too big, and he really didn’t know why he was cursed with so many limbs. “But if you change your mind, let me know.”

Sansa tilted her head to the side. “Why? What would you do?”

He considered it. “I’m sure there are assassins in this city willing to offer competitive rates.”

She laughed, the way she always seemed to laugh at anything he said that could remotely be considered witty these days. But she was shaking her head, too. “No need. His grandfather sent him to exile in Lannisport. He’s enduring some sort of academy for boys that I’m told he hates.”

Stannis knew Joffrey had been sent off to school, but it it was satisfying to hear that the boy hated it there. He hadn’t known that.

The laughter faded from the air and Sansa was looking right at him again. The silence between them suddenly felt charged, and the little hairs on Stannis’ arms and on the back of his neck stood up. He couldn’t look away from her. Sansa was flushed from laughing, and her eyes were still sparkling with amusement. Or was it a spark of something else?

And since when had they been standing so close to one another?

He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Well, I should -” He stopped mid-sentence. It would be odd to leave before the tea was ready, wouldn’t it?

She immediately closed the gap he had just created, still smiling. “Hold on, you have something in your hair,” she said, taking another step closer. 

He couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to, though his heart was beating faster and faster with every breath he took.

Her hand came up to his face, and he stood just as rooted as before, his heart pounding. He expected her to pick whatever lint or piece of dust she had spotted out of his hair and back away again, but when she touched him it was much more than perfunctory. She _caressed_ him. Not only that, but she kept looking into his eyes as she did it, _gazing_ and leaning forward a little, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw her tongue dart out to lick her lips: pink and tempting.

A small, strangled noise escaped him without his permission. _Maybe she didn’t hear it?_

“Almost got it,” Sansa said, taking another step so that she was almost flush against him. Her lips were parted now, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had licked them.

Hadn’t he heard Sansa say something about licking lips once?

He inhaled a silent, shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Her scent was everywhere, filling his nose, and all the blood in his body was rushing to his groin. (Which was just embarrassing at his age. It really should take more stimulation than _this._ )

“There,” she whispered. Hot air hit his neck as she exhaled, and her nails raked his scalp lightly as she withdrew her hand. “All gone.”

Stannis’ knees were perilously close to buckling.

“What’s taking so long?”

Stannis jerked his body away from Sansa at the sound of his daughter’s voice and turned to face the counter. He was wearing suit trousers that really didn’t hide much, so he’d need to keep himself covered until his mortification managed to calm certain parts of his anatomy down. The pot of tea served as a convenient excuse. His hands only shook a little as he poured himself a cup.

“Nothing,” Sansa said, her voice a little higher than usual. “We just had to wait for the water to boil and the tea to steep. Want a cup?”

“... Sure.”

Stannis couldn’t see his daughter’s face, but her tone made him grimace.

Perhaps Davos was right. Perhaps he needed to have a… conversation... with Sansa.

He couldn’t go on like this.

***

Sansa’s chest felt tight, and there was a knot the size of a boulder in her stomach. Shireen hadn’t said anything since they had returned to her room to resume their tutoring session, but Sansa could sense the tension in the air. She tried to focus on the course material that she was helping Shireen with, but she was too distracted to make much sense of it.

When Shireen finally closed the textbook with a snap and gave her a searching look, Sansa was almost too relieved to be afraid of what she might say.

“What were you doing with my dad in the kitchen?”

Sansa changed her mind. She was _not_ relieved to hear that question. “Nothing,” she said, avoiding Shireen’s eyes.

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“There was just a bit of lint in his hair. I got it out for him.” Sansa winced at the feeble excuse. What had she been _thinking?_

“I didn’t see any lint.”

“Well, I saw it.”

Shireen let out a frustrated sound and got up from her desk chair. “Don’t treat me like I’m a stupid kid. I know what it looks like when people are flirting, and you’ve been doing it for _weeks_.” She narrowed her eyes. “Just tell me. Do you like my dad?”

Sansa’s face started to burn and she resisted the impulse to hide it with her hands. She glanced up at Shireen’s face, trying to gauge her mood. There was a very Stannis-like expression on the girl’s face that made a hysterical little giggle bubble up out of her. She forced herself to stop. “I - yeah. Yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” Shireen said, now pacing back and forth, looking both exasperated and confused. “But _why?_ ”

Sansa gave a helpless shrug, unable to think of anything to say. This confrontation was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. Why hadn’t she been able to control herself? Why couldn’t she have just left Stannis alone?

Shireen whirled around and came to a halt in front of Sansa’s chair. “Are you just doing it because you’re bored? Because I can’t let you hurt his feelings,” she said, a determined edge of steel to her voice.

A sharp pang pierced Sansa’s heart. _She thinks I’d flirt with someone as a form of entertainment?_ “No,” she said, surprised to hear how choked her voice sounded. “I would never do that. And I definitely don’t want to hurt his feelings. Or yours. I just… I just like him. I can’t help it.”

Shireen looked down, her cheeks reddening. After a few seconds, Sansa heard her take a deep breath. She looked back up. “But he’s,” Shireen waved her hands for a moment, floundering, “ _Dad._ ”

“I know,” Sansa said, noticing that even though Shireen didn’t seem _thrilled, _the steel had faded from her voice, and she looked open to hearing Sansa’s side of the story. “I know he’s your dad. But to me he’s…” Sansa paused trying to find the right word. “He’s so much more than that. He’s different from anyone I’ve ever met - different from anyone I’ve ever liked.”__

__Shireen snorted in a very Stannis-like way. “He’s nothing like Joffrey.”_ _

__Sansa nodded eagerly. “Exactly. He’s so much better than guys like Joffrey. Joffrey would never have helped me the way your dad did when I went to that party.” She blushed at the memory. “And your dad would never be cruel to anyone just to amuse himself.”_ _

__They looked at each other in silence for a few moments, Shireen’s eyes filling with sympathy. She opened her mouth once, but closed it without making a sound. Sansa was relieved. She really didn’t want to talk about Joff for the second time in less than an hour._ _

__Eventually, Shireen wrapped her arms around herself and sank back into her seat. “You know, some of the girls at school complain about how their friends hit on their older brothers. I used to think I was lucky to be an only child because I wouldn’t have to deal with that.”_ _

__Sansa thought about the way Jeyne had sometimes acted around Robb and how that had made her feel. She tried to imagine Jeyne flirting with her dad, and almost shuddered. “Shireen, I’m _so_ sorry,” Sansa said, forcing herself to meet Shireen’s eyes. “I really don’t want to ruin our friendship.”_ _

__There was a long, tense moment. Shireen’s eyes seemed to be boring into Sansa’s, drilling for information._ _

__Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Shireen closed her eyes and sighed. “Don’t be sorry,” she said, her voice almost too quiet for Sansa to hear it. “I mean… I think it’s bizarre that you like my dad, but I also sort of get it. I think.” Shireen paused, frowning. She got up from her chair again and walked over to her nightstand, opening a drawer and pulling a diary with a lock out of it. She turned it around in her hands and sat down on the bed. “I - I once had a crush on Davos,” she whispered, blushing._ _

__“Your dad’s friend?” Sansa asked, furrowing her brow. She wondered whether she should get up and sit on the bed next to Shireen, but decided to stay still._ _

__“Yes. His best friend. Well, his only friend, really.” Shireen smiled sadly down at her diary. She pulled a key from another drawer and unlocked it._ _

__“Did you write about it in there?” Sansa asked._ _

__Turning the book over and over, Shireen nodded. “Yeah. It was a couple of years ago, but I thought I was totally in love. Look.”_ _

__Sansa got up and joined Shireen on the bed, though she sat gingerly on the very edge._ _

__Shireen opened the book to a page full of doodles that said things like ‘Mrs. Seaworth’, and ‘D plus S’. “I should probably burn it.” She giggled nervously, her shoulders shaking. “But my point is… I know what it’s like to like someone you’re ‘not supposed to’,” Shireen did the air quotes with a slight roll of her eyes, “and I know it’s hard to just… turn it off.”_ _

__Sansa dared to move to a slightly more comfortable position. “How did you stop liking him?”_ _

__Shireen shrugged. “He’s married. And he really loves his wife and his sons. And I realised that the nice things he did for me - the gifts he gave me and the cool stuff he said - weren’t him flirting. He was just being kind.”_ _

__Sansa bit her lip and wondered whether she had misinterpreted Stannis’ actions towards her. Had he only ever treated her with kindness? She looked and Shireen and hesitated. Should she ask her? Was it too weird?_ _

__“What is it?” Shireen asked, tilting her head to the side._ _

__Sansa closed her eyes. “Do you think it’s the same with me and your dad?” She opened one eye as soon as she’d spoken, peering at Shireen’s reaction._ _

__Shireen scrunched her nose up. “No. Earlier, in the kitchen, he was looking at you like he wanted to - I don’t know - kiss you, I guess. Or eat you whole. I’ve never seen him look like that. It was _incredibly_ weird. I may be scarred for life.”_ _

__Sansa’s face had been burning before, but now she was sure it had really, actually caught fire. But her heart jumped with hope even in the midst of her mortification, and her stomach filled with butterflies._ _

__“Anyway, whatever happens… just don’t hurt him, okay?” The steel was back in Shireen’s voice._ _

__Sansa took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “I’ll try not to. I promise.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another great story where Sansa comes into Stannis' life through Shireen is [The Au Pair and the Gentleman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232102/chapters/32814582) by [Ophelia_Raine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_Raine/pseuds/Ophelia_Raine). I highly recommend it!


	12. The Talk

“You asked to see me?” Sansa’s voice was polite, but there was a curious lilt to it that Stannis did not miss. Her hair was down today. She was wearing it down more and more, it seemed. He wished she’d put it up. It was harder to look away from it when it flowed down her back in soft waves. It was harder to keep from straying too close, to keep from inhaling the scent that always seemed to cling to it.

“Yes, please sit down.” He sat as still as he could at his desk, hoping his expression wasn’t betraying the turmoil in his head. He had changed his mind what felt like hundreds of times before asking Sansa to come to his study after she finished tutoring Shireen that afternoon.

Sansa sat, and Stannis took a deep breath that he dearly hoped was subtle.

 _Just do it._

“Last week, in the kitchen,” he began, feeling the small amount of determination he’d managed to muster slip away with every word he spoke. Sansa’s face was turning pink. _What was I saying?_ He cleared his throat.

“Yes?” Sansa said, her voice hushed.

Another subtle deep breath. “There wasn’t anything in my hair, was there?”

She bit her lip and looked down for a second before meeting his eyes again. There was something in them that Stannis couldn’t place. “That depends,” she said, still speaking in that hushed voice. “Do you want there to have been something in your hair?”

His heart skipped a beat.

“That - that doesn’t answer my question,” he said, furrowing his brow and trying to breathe evenly. Suddenly it felt too hot in his study.

“Actually,” Sansa said, rising slowly from her seat, watching him. “You might have something in your hair again right now.”

She was coming around to his side of the desk.

“Do you want me to get it for you?” She was waiting for permission.

_Yes._

He swallowed the word and said nothing, but something on his face must have answered her question because she started to approach him again. His mind went blank as she got nearer and nearer, and he couldn’t do anything except watch her as she stretched a hand out and touched him, just with the tips of her fingers, right behind one ear.

She was watching him in return, and when he simply sat there, doing _nothing_ , she seemed to take it as encouragement. Her touch became bolder, caressing him again as she had in the kitchen the week before, her rounded nails raking lightly over his scalp.

He shuddered, a feeling of exquisite pleasure flowing from the point of contact, down his spine, and all the way to his every extremity. For a moment he closed his eyes and simply allowed himself to relish it.

_You mustn’t._

He stood up, suddenly looming over her. She had dropped her hand as soon as he’d moved, and he was already missing her touch, his scalp tingling.

She was looking up at him the same way she had the week before. _Gazing._ Licking her lips and then leaving them slightly parted. Everything about her was flushed and expectant.

He’d had a week to think about that look. To obsess. And eventually he had remembered the conversation he’d overheard between Sansa and Shireen. Their conversation about how to signal the desire to be kissed.

_She wants me to kiss her._

Every last atom in his body ached to close the distance between them. To wrap his arms around her and kiss her until neither one of them could breathe. Taste everything she was offering.

_No._

He clenched his jaw and his fists. The pain of his fingernails digging into his palms helped him focus.

“Sit down,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. 

Something like disappointment flashed in Sansa’s eyes before she obediently did as he asked. Once she was safely seated on the other side of the desk, he sat down as well.

“This can’t happen,” he said, not looking at her.

“What can’t?” Sansa whispered.

He looked up and glared. “You know what.”

But looking at her had been a mistake. The naked emotion in every line of her face robbed him of his resolve.

“You’re too young for me, Sansa,” he said, his chest tightening.

“Do you really think that?” She asked, her eyes wide open and searching.

He swallowed. It was what he was supposed to think. It was what he _wanted_ to think.

“Because I don’t think it really matters,” Sansa went on, lifting her chin. “Not when people really like each other.” She paused and visibly gathered her courage. He could see it in her eyes. “And I like you, Stannis.”

The silence that followed her words was quite possibly the longest silence Stannis had ever endured. He couldn’t make himself speak. He couldn’t _think._

Eventually, he unfroze. “ _Why?_ ” he blurted out, running a hand through his hair and staring at her, hoping the expression on her face would help him along.

“Because you’re you,” she said, shooting him a small smile.

He just stared at her. Her words didn’t make any sense.

“Stannis?” she said, looking warily at him. “Are you all right?”

He cleared his throat and shook his head, blinking rapidly. “Fine.” He cleared his throat again. “But you realise it’s inappropriate? You’re… you’re my daughter’s tutor.”

“Yes.” She was staring down at her clasped hands again.

“And you really are too young for me,” he repeated, though he didn’t feel much older than fifteen at the moment. He was sure he hadn’t felt this appalling lack of confidence since he was that age. Faced with Sansa Stark, blushing and confessing that she liked him, he felt disarmed. 

Flattered. 

She looked him straight in the eyes. “Like I said, I really don’t think that it matters.” Her expression was a peculiar mix of vulnerability and steel. “Not if we like each other.”

He felt himself start to sweat, and hoped that it wasn’t too obvious. How was he supposed to answer her? What could he possibly say? Davos had said to be gentle, but was there a gentle way to reject someone? Rejection had never felt gentle to _him._ And he didn’t _want_ to reject her.

“You’re not supposed to like me,” he said, unable to keep his bewilderment out of his tone.

“Why not?”

He opened his mouth, reconsidered, and closed it again.

“You’re not seeing anyone else, are you?” she asked, her cheeks still pink from before.

Stannis recalled Davos saying that he could pretend to be taken, but he couldn’t lie. Not about something like this. “No.”

“Then why shouldn’t I like you? Does it make you uncomfortable? Don’t you like me?” Her eyes were boring into him, big and wide and astonishingly blue.

“That’s not the point.” He closed his eyes, unable to think clearly with her looking at him like that. “You are my employee. It’s not… it’s just not appropriate, Sansa.”

“Am I fired, then?” Sansa whispered, forcing his eyes to snap open.

“No!” He took a deep breath. “No. You’ve been an exemplary tutor to Shireen.”

“Then what?” Sansa asked, shaking her head, her brow furrowed with confusion. “What do you want me to do?”

Heat rushed through his body, making his breath catch in his throat. He knew he was supposed to tell her to stop flirting with him, but the words seemed to have caught along with his breath.

“Please,” she said after the silence had stretched on for too long. “Just tell me.”

“I don’t know,” he finally managed, the words coming out sharp and irritated. “This isn’t a situation I’ve ever found myself in before.”

“A woman has never liked you before?” Sansa sounded sceptical.

“My daughter’s _nineteen year old_ tutor has never liked me before,” he said, glaring at her.

“Twenty, actually,” Sansa said. “And maybe I should quit.” She squared her shoulders and straightened her back. “That way you wouldn’t have to reduce me to nothing but my age and my part-time job.”

His face grew warm and his stomach shrank, and he couldn’t quite meet Sansa’s eyes. So he just shook his head at his desk. “Shireen would be upset if you quit.”

“You don’t know that. And I could still help her with her studies,” Sansa said, her voice earnest. “Only you wouldn’t pay me.”

He looked up and stared at her. “What would you have me do?”

Her blush deepened, and she gave a delicate shrug. “Take me to dinner?”

He kept staring.

“I mean… only if you want to.” She looked down at her lap. “Only if you like me back.”

Stannis had no idea what to say to that. This whole conversation had been a terrible idea. Nothing had happened the way he had expected it to happen. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe you could think about it?” she suggested, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite interpret. “I know there are a few issues to sort out, but if we’re both single, and if we like each other… “

He couldn’t refute any of that. He frowned. “But Shireen -”

“Shireen and I actually talked about it,” Sansa said, cutting him off. “She understands.”

Stannis had to work hard not to gape at her. _Sansa and Shireen talked about this?_ “Why… _when_ -?”

“After what happened a week ago, Shireen wanted to know whether I actually liked you or whether I was playing games.” Sansa gave him a small smile. “She’s very protective of you.”

“Oh.” His insides were writhing, but his chest filled with a strange warmth, too.

“Anyway, I hope you’ll think about it. I’d like to go out with you sometime.” She was still smiling at him, and looking at him from beneath lowered lashes.

He didn’t feel up to doing much more than nodding. She seemed to take that as a dismissal, and got up from her chair.

She walked over to the door. “You can text me if you like,” she said with her hand on the doorknob. “You have my number, right?”

He nodded again.

“Okay, then.” She smiled. “See you.”

Once she was gone, Stannis got up from his desk chair and collapsed onto the sofa in the corner.

_What just happened?_

***

_What just happened?_ Sansa thought to herself as she walked away from Stannis’ study, her legs feeling like bread.

Had she really said all those things? About him taking her to dinner? Quitting as Shireen’s official tutor? Inviting him to _text?_

She had already said good-bye to Shireen, so Sansa headed for the front door of the house. Without paying much attention to what she was doing, Sansa put her coat on and got in her car. She sat there without starting the engine, staring at the garage door, thinking.

Should she have put all her cards on the table like she had just done?

Would it have been better if she had just grabbed him and kissed him when she’d had the chance?

Had it been a good idea to tell him that she and Shireen had discussed… things?

_Does he actually like me?_

Stannis had said that he didn’t know, but Shireen seemed to think that he did. The fact that he hadn’t immediately denied liking her when she had asked was encouraging, but at the same time it was disheartening to think that he hadn’t been able to just say: ‘yes, I like you’.

The only thing she was really sure about was that he liked it when she touched him. But that might just be a physical thing.

Was she just setting herself up to get hurt?

Her thoughts swirled around and around in circles, making her head ache.

Jeyne was concerned when Sansa arrived home later than usual, but Sansa brushed her off. She didn’t feel up to discussing it. All she really felt up to doing was crawling into bed and hiding beneath the covers until a new day arrived.

Things would look better in the morning. That’s what her mother always said, and her mother had always been right in the past. 

Slowly, the buzz of her thoughts settled into a comfortable hum, and eventually her mind became quiet and still.

Sansa was almost asleep when the text came, lighting up her phone’s screen and tempting her to look. Her heart jumped to her throat when she realised it was from Stannis.

**Are you awake?**

She rushed to answer. _Wide awkake._ She considered adding a smiley, but decided not to.

**Are you certain this is what you want?**

_I’ve never been more sure of anything._ Her heart was beating so hard as she sent the message that it was strange to think she had almost been asleep mere moments ago. It felt more like she had just been running a marathon.

There was an excruciating wait, the three dots on her phone’s screen taunting her.

Finally, his answer came. **Dinner on Saturday?**

Sansa buried her face in her pillow and let out a muffled shriek. Her face ached from the wideness of her smile.

 _Yes please,_ she texted back as quickly as she could, almost vibrating with excitement.

**I’ll make reservations and text you the details.**

_Does this mean you like me, then?_ Sansa bit her lip as she pressed send. She hoped the text didn’t come off too pushy, but she needed something to go on. If the dinner was Stannis’ idea of letting her down gently, she’d never forgive him.

**Yes.**

Sansa almost shrieked into her pillow again, but she managed to hold it in. Instead she kept smiling until her face hurt.

Her fingers hovered over the screen of her phone as she tried to decide whether to text something back. Eventually she decided on: _I’m glad. I can’t wait for Saturday!_ After a moment of consideration she added a kissy face, giggling at the idea of Stannis’ reaction to it as she pressed send.

**Likewise.**

With a happy sigh, she put her phone away and prodded her pillow until it supported her head comfortably. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her heart felt like it might burst.


	13. The Date

“Are you certain this doesn’t make you uncomfortable?” Stannis asked, staring at his daughter and willing her to answer him honestly.

Before he had texted Sansa and invited her to dinner, he had briefly considered asking Shireen for her blessing, or at least confirming that she and Sansa had discussed the matter as Sansa had claimed. Ultimately, he had decided against it. Shireen was his daughter, and though her opinions and her feelings certainly mattered to him, especially due to the unique circumstances, he did not think it set the right sort of precedence if he started asking her permission before inviting women to dinner.

He had, however, asked for Shireen’s opinion the morning after he had secured a date with Sansa.

Shireen hadn’t said much at that point. Her expression had been strange and difficult to read, and all she had really wanted to know was whether Sansa would continue to tutor her.

He’d told her she would.

After that she had left for school, and they hadn’t said one word about the matter for the rest of the week.

Stannis was hoping she’d had enough time to formulate proper responses to his questions by now. (And it was now or never; he was leaving to pick Sansa up in less than half an hour.) 

“Uncomfortable?” Shireen’s expression had become strange and difficult to read again. “I don’t know. It’s definitely... odd.” She sighed and approached him to presumably straighten his tie. Her hands were gentle. “She’s my friend. And I’ve never seen you date anyone.”

 _Not after Mother left._ The words hung unspoken in the air between them.

She let go of his tie and took a step back, tilting her head from side to side to examine her handywork. Stannis glanced at the tie’s reflection in the foyer mirror. He couldn’t see a difference.

His daughter shot him a quick smile. “But as long as you don’t make out in front of me, I think I can deal with it.”

Stannis felt his face heat up. He very much doubted that there would be any… making out. Sansa would realise halfway through dinner that she had didn’t like him after all, and they’d agree to go their separate ways, and then he’d come home and redo the labels on his coin collection like he’d been meaning to do for a week now.

His daughter touched his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. “She really likes you, you know.”

His stomach flipped over and _squeezed._ “You wouldn’t happen to know… why?”

“I really don’t want to think about what my friend might find attractive about you,” Shireen said, wrinkling her nose. “You’re my _dad._ ”

“Right,” he said, clenching his jaw and nodding. Perhaps it might be wiser to ask Sansa that question. Again. Maybe she’d answer properly this time.

“Anyway, can you please ask Cressen to go home? I don’t need a babysitter.”

Stannis scowled at her. “You said that Ned boy would be paying you a visit, didn’t you?”

Shireen tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. She had clearly taken extra care with it tonight. She looked almost as pretty as she had the night of the winter dance. “Yes, which is why I really don’t want Cressen hanging around.”

“Tough,” Stannis said, glancing at his reflection again. He had done his best with his appearance, and while he was satisfied that his suit was properly tailored and drew attention to the fact that he was in good shape, he didn’t think there was much to be done about his face. The jaw was too square, he had crow’s feet and deep frown lines around his mouth and between his eyebrows, and his receding hairline made him look even older than he was. “I’ve asked Cressen to make sure that boy keeps his hands to himself.”

Shireen hid her face in her hands and groaned. “ _Dad._ ”

“I’m not changing my mind about this,” he said, fixing his daughter with a stern look. A version of his own scowl met his eyes, though it looked decidedly gentler on Shireen’s face.

“You know, I don’t _have_ to be cool with the fact that you’re trying to get my friend into bed or whatever.” Shireen’s scowl deepened and she narrowed her eyes.

It felt as if a shard of glass had just entered his bloodstream, and for a moment he was too shocked to react. He recovered himself quickly however, crossed his arms, and showed her what a real glare looked like. “One more disrespectful word out of you, and I will personally make sure that _Ned_ never comes near this house again, and I will take your phone, and your internet privileges for a week.”

Shireen’s mouth dropped open and a flash of hurt appeared in her eyes. But then it was as if the bratty air went out of her like it would out of a punctured balloon. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” she mumbled, her cheeks reddening.

The sharpness of his anger was already fading, but he maintained his glare. “I should hope not. And I expect you to treat Cressen well tonight. He’s giving up his Saturday night to be here for you.”

“Of course I’ll be nice to Cressen!” Shireen looked genuinely offended. “He’s pretty much like my grandfather.”

“Good.” It was time to put his glare away, but he didn’t quite know what to do with himself without it. He examined the cuff of his jacket and cleared his throat. “Have a good night.”

Shireen nodded. She looked hesitant for a moment, but almost as soon as he’d noticed her indecision, she was taking a step forward and hugging him. “You too.”

For a few seconds he stood frozen, but eventually he patted her back. She seemed to take that as a sign to let go of him. The air felt a little colder once she had backed away, and he could not help but feel... bereft.

“Say hi to Sansa for me,” Shireen said, smiling at him as if they had never argued.

“You’ll see her tomorrow,” he pointed out, his skin prickling with nerves. _Or perhaps Shireen will never see Sansa again, because this date will be so terrible that she will never come near either of us again for as long as she lives._

Shireen rolled her eyes, but there was no real irritation on her face. “I know. It’s just something you say. Now go before you’re late.”

Despite Shireen’s parting comment, he spent more time than he was entirely comfortable with putting on his overcoat and staring at his reflection before finally heading out. The drive to Sansa’s place was uneventful, but when he parked outside the neat apartment building, he felt a brief stab of relief that he hadn’t known this was where she lived the night of the Incident. He doubted he would have been able to get her unconscious body up several flights of stairs.

_And I wouldn’t have been able to stay to watch over her._

He took a deep breath before knocking on Sansa’s apartment door. When was the last time he’d picked a woman up for a date? Had he done this with Selyse at some point? He supposed he must have, but couldn’t really remember.

An unfamiliar brunette opened the door. Her clothes put him in mind of Sansa’s sense of fashion, and he wondered whether the two girls shared a closet. 

“Hi, you must be Stannis,” the brunette said, sticking her hand out to shake. He shook it. “I’m Jeyne, Sansa’s roommate,” she added with a smile. Stannis felt too tense to even try to smile in return. He barely felt up to nodding. Jeyne’s smile faltered. “Um. She’s almost ready. Why don’t you come in and sit down?”

The apartment was tastefully decorated and painted in in soft, feminine colours. The furniture was mostly white, though the sofa was grey. A mahogany piano stood against one wall. Though the sofa looked very inviting and comfortable, with throw pillows and blankets arranged on it just so, he decided to remain on his feet and stay close to the door. Jeyne offered him a drink but didn’t press him for conversation when he declined.

Stannis focused on breathing and keeping his mind clear. There were knots of anxiety in his stomach, but he was determined to ignore them. He was a grown man. He could do this.

When Sansa appeared, Stannis realised how very wrong he was.

She was wearing a black cocktail dress that hugged her curves and covered her from neck to knee. Her legs were bare and long, her feet encased in a similar pair of heels that had made it impossible for her to walk when she had been drunk. Her hair had been twisted into an elegant arrangement - though a few tendrils had escaped to frame her face - and her eyes were sparkling. They had clearly been made up to look even more noticeable than they usually were, and her lips were also a darker shade than he was used to, though all he could really see was her smile.

He couldn’t just… take her to dinner. She was too beautiful to go anywhere with _him._

“You’re here!” she said, her smile widening further. “Let me just get my purse.”

Stannis was struck by the memory of his daughter running to get her purse before the winter dance, but before he could really consider it, his brain was wiped completely clean of all coherent thought. Sansa had turned around to go back into her room, and it became clear that her dress was backless.

_Gods above._

He was still trying to pull himself together when Sansa returned, wearing a blazer and carrying a clutch, and gave him an expectant look. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realise that he was meant to offer her his arm and lead her out to his car.

“Bye! Don’t wait up!” Sansa said cheerfully to her roommate as they left.

His stomach did a somersault at those words. _She’s expecting a long date, then._

Somehow, despite the fact that his head and his mouth had filled with cotton, he managed to escort Sansa safely to his parking spot.

“Nice car,” she said once they were seated side by side. “I don’t think I’ve seen this one. Is it new?”

He cleared his throat. He knew how old his car was. This was a simple question and he could answer it. “It’s a year old. You probably haven’t noticed it in the garage because it’s not what I use for work. I believe Cressen keeps it under a cover most of the time.”

“I like the leather,” Sansa said with a smile. “Though my back would stick to the seat if I took this off.” She indicated her blazer casually.

Something hot spiked inside of him as the very recent memory of her bare back flashed in front of his eyes, but he tried to ignore it. _Just start the car and drive._

Sansa chatted while he drove, and thankfully she didn’t say anything else about taking her clothes off. She just talked like she usually did when she joined him and Shireen for dinner at the house, and the familiarity of it put him at ease.

Stannis had chosen a restaurant he had been to several times before. He knew the service was good, and more importantly, he knew the food they served wasn’t _absurd._ He hated pretentious dishes that came in tiny portions and had unpronounceable names.

“I’ve never been here before,” Sansa said, smiling at the waiter who had just taken her blazer from her. “But I’ve heard good things.”

Suddenly he felt at least an inch taller.

To his utter astonishment, things continued to go well. Sansa liked their secluded table, the ‘ambiance’, the food, and the wine. She seemed to enjoy talking to him, too. She smiled as they talked about his work and her studies, and about the differences between the north and the south. She even looked genuinely interested when she asked whether he’d bought any new coins lately.

“What about you?” he asked when he had given her a thorough report of his latest purchase. “Do you… collect anything?”

“No, not really,” she smiled. “I supposed I used to ‘collect’ trophies for ballroom dancing, but when the time came to make a choice between going professional and going to school, I decided I’d rather go to school.”

“What do you do with your free time since you don’t dance anymore?”

“I spend a lot of my free time tutoring Shireen - obviously - but otherwise I just… hang out with Jeyne, do my own schoolwork, take pilates classes, post stupid things on Instagram, play the piano, read…” She trailed off and shrugged.

“Do you miss it?” Stannis was fairly sure he’d miss collecting his coins if he had to give it up.

“Are you saying you’d volunteer as tribute if I wanted to pick it back up?” Sansa asked sweetly, shooting him a sly smile.

A crystal clear memory of what it had felt like to dance with her came to the forefront of his mind, and he felt his stomach tighten. He cleared his throat.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to.”

Their dessert arrived, and Stannis quickly realised he’d need to come up with some topic of conversation if he were to survive. Sansa seemed to be the sort of person who enjoyed sweets to the fullest extent - she was moaning at every mouthful of her lemon meringue pie - and Stannis desperately needed to distract her. Make her stop. _Something._

“Why do you like me?” he blurted out. “And don’t give me that line about it being because I’m me,” he added, narrowing his eyes at her.

Sansa put her fork down and reached for the glass of dessert wine that had accompanied the pie. She took a small sip and looked at him with a blush. “You have to ask?”

He nodded.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Obviously I didn’t start tutoring Shireen just to get you to go out with me. I was actually kind of scared of you,” she shot him an embarrassed smile. “But as I got to know Shireen, and as I got to know you, I just… I really liked what I saw.” Sansa ducked her head. “You’re such a good father to Shireen, and you were there for me when I was scared and I didn’t know what to do. I never would have expected it after first meeting you. You seemed so intimidating on the surface.” She took a deep breath and looked up again. “But after Joffrey, I can’t help but feel that it’s what’s beneath the surface that really matters.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Sansa was blushing, but her eyes were sincere.

He didn’t know what to say. His insides felt oddly melted. 

“Thank you,” he eventually managed, the manners his mother had taught him kicking in.

“And it doesn’t hurt that you have a hot bod and a really cute smile,” Sansa added, picking her fork up again and taking another mouthful of her pie. Her eyes were sparkling. “When you choose to share it with the world.”

Warmth rushed to his face.

Her expression turned more serious again. “I’m not going to lie,” she said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “The fact that you have a the ‘right’ family name and that we’re from the same world does matter to me. But it doesn’t matter more than what I’ve already mentioned. It’s just… one of a lot of factors.”

He nodded. He wasn’t a _fool._ Of course those things mattered. But if they were the only things that mattered to Sansa, she might easily have stayed with Joffrey. Or found any number of idiotic young men that fit the bill.

Once the dessert was all gone, Sansa gave him an exaggerated mournful look. “I don’t want dinner to be over. Let’s start again.”

Stannis - unusually relaxed due to the conversation, the food, and the single glass of red he’d allowed himself with his filet mignon - let himself smile. As much as he ever smiled. He shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” Sansa protested, though her outrage at being contradicted was clearly feigned. “Well, I don’t think I could actually eat another bite, but I don’t want to go home, either.”

Stannis found that he too had no particular interest in going home. “Where do you want to go?”

She gave him an innocent look. “We could go dancing. I know a place.”

Stannis had a brief vision of a sweaty club with electronic music and flashing lights. His expression must have betrayed his horror as Sansa started to laugh.

“It’s a place popular with people who actually know how to dance. Not your typical club.” She bit her lip. “I used to go all the time my first few months in King’s Landing.”

“You think I’d fit in there?” Stanni asked, raising a brow. “I barely qualify as knowing how to dance.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” Sansa said, touching his hand again. The sensation sent a little jolt through him. “Anyway, there are nice tables and a cocktail bar, too. And when I said that the people there know how to dance, I just meant that it’s the done thing to pair up and at least _pretend_ to get the steps right. Instead of thrashing around all… higgledy-piggledy.”

Feeling like he would definitely regret his decision once he was expected to put his rusty dance skills on display in front of people, Stannis nodded. But at the moment he didn’t care that he’d look foolish. All he cared about was spending more time with Sansa.

***

Sansa could hardly believe she’d managed to convince Stannis to come _dancing._ She really hadn’t prepared for this eventuality. She’d have worn more practical shoes if she had suspected it was even within the realm of possibility.

But maybe it was a good thing that her shoes only allowed her to dance for two or three songs before it felt like she was walking on knives and had to sit down for a little while. The pain in her feet made for a good excuse to rescue Stannis from the floor whenever the band started playing salsa music. 

The latin dances were obviously very very _very_ far from his comfort zone.

Even the foxtrot seemed to make him jumpy. She noticed the way he swallowed whenever they took their place on the floor. Or was it whenever he touched her bare back? The idea sent a little thrill through her.

Whether or not it was her bare skin that was doing it, it was clear to her that Stannis was considerably attracted to her. She hadn’t failed to notice the dumbfounded expression on his face when she had emerged from her room in her yes-I-am-really-trying-this-hard first date outfit.

It had definitely given her a surge of confidence. And she had needed that surge to keep from losing her cool completely at the way he looked in his smartly tailored suit. At the thought that he’d made that effort for _her._ He wasn’t wearing one of his usual ones. This one was pure black instead of grey or brown, and she was fairly sure it was some kind of silk blend instead of his usual wool. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, so his tie was the only pop of colour. It was a deep cobalt blue. In dim lighting it looked black, however. Just like his eyes had been bleeding from blue to black all night as he observed her.

The way he looked at her was possibly her favourite thing in the world.

It made her feel like it was perfectly okay for her to cling to him a little more than she strictly needed to on the dancefloor, touch him wherever she could reasonably get away with putting her hands in public, and press herself close enough to inhale the delicious mixture of his aftershave and a very _male_ smell that she couldn’t really describe.

There was something heady and wonderful about having Stannis all to herself like this. Indulging her. Watching her.

At the moment they were sitting at a booth-like table close to the dance floor, fresh drinks in front of them. Stannis was drinking water, but she had asked for a Dornish Orgasm - just to see the flustered look on Stannis’ face when she ordered it. She smiled at Stannis and took a sip from her colourful cocktail. It would be her last drink of the evening. She did _not_ want a repeat of the Quiet Isle Iced Tea debacle.

“You didn’t tell me why it is that you like me,” she said, sliding closer to him so that she’d be able to talk into his ear. The music was fairly loud, so Sansa figured she might as well use the opportunity.

Stannis shifted and gave her a piercing look. “Fishing for compliments?”

Sansa shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I told you why I like you. Turnabout is fair play.”

He pursed his lips, but seemed to accept her argument. She gave him a moment to think, sipping her fruity cocktail to occupy herself without fidgeting.

He leaned in to speak right into her ear, and she closed her eyes to block out everything except what he might say. She liked having him so close. If it weren’t completely improper in a public setting, she’d like to figure out a way to sit in his lap. But maybe that was the cocktail talking. Or his suit.

His voice of matter-of-fact when he finally spoke. “After Selyse left, I didn’t think I’d ever have the urge to complicate my life with another woman,” he said, his voice carrying easily even though it was a little graveled. “But having you at the house so often… you make it fuller. Better.” He paused, and Sansa felt his lips brush against her ear. “Shireen has been happier than I’ve ever seen her since you started tutoring her.” He paused again. “It’s not often that people show an interest in me, Sansa. But you… you asked. You listened.” She heard him inhale. “And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His breath felt hot against her skin when he exhaled in a rush, and Sansa felt her insides liquify completely.

Her chest felt strange. Hot and tight. “You think I’m beautiful?” Guessing that he was attracted to her based on his behaviour, and hearing him say that she was _beautiful_ as if it were an indisputable fact, were two very different things.

He nodded, his eyes boring into hers.

Impulsively, Sansa closed the distance between them and kissed his cheek. It was supposed to be a peck, but his skin was freshly shaved and smelled _really_ nice, and it felt good to have her lips on him. The peck turned into more of a prolonged… smoosh. When she finally made as if to withdraw, she felt his hand on the back of her neck, stopping her before she got very far. His eyes had never been blacker.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

The kiss that followed, their first, was nothing like any kiss Sansa had experienced before. Rather than being too wet or too… bitey… it was like velvet and silk on her skin. Butterflies exploded into being in her stomach as he moved his head to the side. She parted her lips for him at the first experimental swipe of his tongue, inviting him in with a shuddered breath. The hand on her neck tightened its hold, and she felt him touch her lower back, too. He was dragging her closer, hugging her to his chest as he deepened their kiss, exploring every inch of her mouth. She wanted to explore too, so she threaded the fingers of one hand into his hair, clutching at a broad shoulder with the other. His body was hard, but somehow completely welcoming at the same time. 

When he kissed her neck, a hot, open-mouthed kiss, and scraped his fingernails lightly over the small of her back at the same time, she felt liquid heat pool between her thighs in a rush that was different from anything she had ever experienced. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she had a feeling she’d actually _moaned._

They were both a little out of breath when they parted, and Sansa knew she’d have to start squirming in a very undignified way if they didn’t get up soon. (Or stop caring that they were in public and just straddle him...)

“Let’s dance,” she said, pulling him to his feet. The music was something sultry, tailor-made for a good tango, but Sansa wasn’t going to worry about the footwork for this one. She just wanted an excuse to be close to him. To touch him. To let him touch her.

Stannis kept her close. She knew why, but didn’t say anything. She’d practically gone through puberty with her ballroom dance partner, a sweet boy called Podrick Payne, and he had occasionally come down with trouser issues when they had been working on particularly sexy numbers. She knew how to keep a straight face, and she knew how to give a guy a break and help him hide the… bulge. On the inside she was practically singing with glee, of course. It felt wonderful to know that she wasn’t the only one who had been strongly affected by that kiss.

She wondered whether she should tell him that she wanted him just as much. Or did he already know? She was sure she was flushed with arousal, and she had read somewhere that some men could smell it on a woman. Her heart beat faster at the thought.

Instead of dancing, they mostly just swayed. Sansa kept her arms around his neck, and smiled when his hands strayed to her hips. He was hesitant at first, resting them lightly against her -- like he was asking her permission. When all she did was press herself more firmly against him, his grip became firmer in turn.

She ground herself against him, deliberately teasing the hard length she could feel through their clothes. The heat of him made blood rush to her head, and more liquid pool between her thighs. She felt the best, most frustrating itch, and knew that there was only one real way to scratch it. Judging by the way he was breathing, he was feeling something similar.

“Sansa,” Stannis said into her ear when the song was coming to a close. His voice was strained. Apologetic. A deep furrow had appeared between his eyebrows, and there was worry in his eyes.

“Ready to go?” she asked, doing her best to tell him with the tone of her voice and her expression that she didn’t mind his arousal. That she wasn’t offended.

She was so very very far from offended.

Stannis didn’t kiss her in the back of the taxi on the way to her apartment building, but they exchanged several heated looks that Sansa knew would keep her awake for a while.

“Will you need any help getting your car back from the restaurant tomorrow?” Sansa asked when they were only a few minutes away from her place. “I could go with you to fetch it if you want?”

“I’ll manage,” Stannis said, not taking the hint.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.”

“It’s Sunday tomorrow,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Won’t you come over to tutor Shireen? You’ll see me then.”

“Yes, but that’s not -” Sansa cut herself off and shook her head, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walked her to the door, the taxi idling in the street, and kissed her good-night. It was a very polite kiss compared to their first, and Sansa didn’t try to deepen it. She could tell that Stannis was trying to be a gentleman. She supposed she’d have to respect that, and not drag him to her bedroom by his silk tie. She noticed that it was still straight, knot still perfect.

“Good-night.”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine when he wished her a good night in return. It was raspy and deep, and oh… his _eyes._

Sansa usually wore a silk nightgown to bed. Tonight she decided not to wear anything at all. She let herself imagine what Stannis would do if he could see. The look on his face. The way his Adam’s apple would bob up and down, and the way his eyes would darken. She pretended his hands were touching her rather than her own, and her skin tingled where his lips had lingered earlier. She wished he had kissed her neck a lot more. It had felt _so_ good.

Her body felt almost uncomfortably hot beneath her covers, and hotter still when she let herself think about the bulge she had helped Stannis hide; how deliciously hard it had felt when she had rubbed against him.

She trapped her covers between her thighs and squirmed, letting herself remember how hard he was _all over_. She was sure he’d look nothing short of spectacular without any clothes on. Or maybe it would look even better to have him half-dressed? His impeccable suit and perfect tie no longer impeccable and perfect? Everything askew, shirt open… She bit her lip at the mental image, letting herself imagine what it would feel like to have him on top of her, pressing the length of his body against her, pressing his _cock_ against her. Into her.

She imagined how he’d kiss her while he filled her, how he’d touch her… play with her nipples… maybe even lathe them with is tongue… maybe lick her everywhere…

Maybe he’d want her on top? Maybe he’d want to watch her?

It didn’t take long for an orgasm to spike at the thought of his dark eyes on her, watching her ride him, and she shuddered and squealed as quietly as she could into her pillow.

She fell asleep with sweat drying on her skin, and a smile on her lips.

***

Stannis’ blood was still buzzing through his veins like a swarm of bees by the time he made it to his bedroom. The brief conversation with Cressen to make sure his daughter was safely asleep after an innocent evening with that _Ned_ boy had not been a sufficient distraction. Stannis’ evening had been far from innocent, after all.

He bit back a groan as he recalled the kiss he and Sansa had shared at the dance club. He had never kissed anyone quite like that. Had never had a kiss _returned_ quite like that. And his body had certainly never betrayed his interest in public like that. Not since he was a teenager.

Stannis went through the motions of readying himself for bed, trying to recall every single detail of how Sansa had looked and behaved after their kiss. She had not seemed to notice his… issue... at first. And when she had noticed, she had not seemed to mind.

_Not at all…_

He crawled into bed and put out the lights.

The memory of dancing with her made him shudder beneath the covers, and he tried to calm his quickening heartbeat by breathing deeply. He could see himself watching her move seductively with the music, his hands on her hips; could feel her body brush against his erection, and then do more than brush...

Just the memory of it made his cock twitch.

There had not been a trace of disgust or mortification on her face when it had happened. If anything, she had seemed… pleased.

He rubbed his face, feeling the pressure of his arousal return at the memory of her hooded eyes and flushed skin, tenting his pyjama bottoms. He shifted to lie on his side, gritting his teeth.

Could it really be that she had looked pleased? Wasn’t this just wishful thinking? Had she _liked_ the fact that he had lost control of himself like that?

She had certainly pressed herself impertinently close.

The people around them must have noticed. Must have seen her rub herself against him like that. His heart started to race as it had done at the club. 

He had been forced to exercise all his willpower in order to keep from grabbing her ass and keeping her firmly in place, to hell with anyone who might be watching.

His heart sped up even further, and his cock twitched. Something deep inside him seemed to swell and pulse at the idea of putting his hands on Sansa in such a crass way in front of people.

He’d never had trouble with impulses like those before. Tomorrow he’d probably be appalled. But he was losing control of himself, and his mind wandered, imagining what her reaction might have been if he’d allowed himself to devolve into a caveman on the dance floor. Would she have continued to look pleased and flushed?

His hand wandered, too.

Or would she have breathed a shocked, ‘ _Stannis_ ,’ into his ear? ' _Everyone can see us…_ '

He swallowed a sound, and moved his hand faster. 

His mind took him to the en suite of a particular guest bedroom. Sansa was in front of him, wearing nothing but a towel. 

He could picture it with perfect clarity. 

The towel fell away. Her breasts were pressed to his chest the way they had when they had been kissing, but this time there was no fabric getting in the way. He could feel her nipples, pebbled against his skin. She was moaning into his mouth like she had when he had started kissing her, and her tongue tasted like a Dornish Orgasm.

' _Please… Stannis… I want you..._ ’ Her voice was low and throaty and full of need. He could hear the way she said his name so clearly. It was easy to imagine her moaning it. Panting. Breathless. Desperate for him to satisfy her. _Begging_ for his cock.

Then he was inside her. She was dripping wet for him. Her long legs wrapped around him and her hands all over him, encouraging him. Moaning his name as he gave her every inch of what she’d begged for.

His stomach squirming a little, a surge of heat to his face, he imagined her gasping at his size.

After that, it was hard to keep the fantasy very detailed or linear. His mind flitted restlessly from one sex position to another, one location to another - his bed, his study, in a dark corner of that dance club where only the shadows kept _everyone_ from seeing them - until it emptied of all thought. He pumped his hand hard, his world narrowing until there was just the steady build -- the race for release.

He grunted when he came, making a mess of himself.

He cleaned up as quickly and efficiently as he could, determinedly avoiding his flushed face in the mirror as he washed his hands.


	14. Sunday

“Soooo,” Shireen’s voice floated over, “how was the big date?”

Stannis almost spilled tea down his front. He hadn’t noticed his daughter enter the dining room due to his newspaper.

“It was fine,” he said, aiming for calm dignity. He folded his newspaper and put it aside. “How was your night?”

Shireen shot him an arch look and reached for the toast. “As if you didn’t interrogate Cressen the second you got back.” She buttered her toast methodically. “Which must have been pretty late. I was asleep before midnight, and I never heard you get back.”

“That’s none of your concern,” he said, taking a measured sip of his tea.

A strange expression crossed Shireen’s face. “Oh.” She stared down at her plate. “Did you… sleep over at Sansa’s place? Did you only just get back?”

His eyes widened as he realised what she was implying. “Shireen,” he said sharply.

Shireen’s shoulders relaxed and she blew out a relieved breath. “Okay, that means you didn’t.”

“ _Shireen._ ”

“Sorry. I’ll stop.” She starting eating her breakfast, catching breadcrumbs on her plate neatly. “But you had a good time? And Sansa, too?”

“It was _fine_.” Stannis did not feel at all comfortable talking to Shireen about his date with Sansa. He could feel his face warming at the memories that were flooding his brain, and he did not want Shireen to notice.

Shireen gave him a shrewd look that probably meant that she was noticing.

Stannis took a calming breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I did not interrogate Cressen.” He needed to get this conversation back on track.

Shireen made a sceptical sound, still intent on her toast.

“Do you intend to spend more time with him?”

“Cressen?” Shireen said innocently, pouring herself some tea from the pot.

Stannis fixed her with an impatient look.

Shireen stirred honey into her tea, pointedly taking her time. “Yes, I think I will spend more time with Ned. He’s nice. We like a lot of the same things.”

“Keep me informed,” Stannis said, trying not to give into the strong urge to ground Shireen for the rest of her life to protect her from the world. And from _boys._

“Why do I have to keep you informed when you refuse to tell me about anything that’s going on with you and Sansa? She’s my friend.”

Stannis caught Shireen’s gaze and held it, clenching his jaw. “Shireen. _Enough._ ” 

Shireen froze, half-eaten toast forgotten on her plate, untouched tea cooling in her cup.

Having made his point he looked away. “I promise you, you will be the first to know if there are any significant developments. But I will not tolerate any prying or disrespect.”

“Yes, Dad.” She stared down at her lap, her voice subdued.

He took a deep breath and did his best to find a calm tone of voice. “We must both keep each other informed of what is happening in our lives because that is what family does.” He paused, and he and Shireen shared a look that made him wonder whether she was thinking about Selyse, too. He took another breath and kept going. They didn’t need to discuss Selyse. “But I will not ask you for the details of your dates with _Ned_ \- as long as I am satisfied that he is treating you with respect - and you will not ask me for the details of what I do with Sansa. Do I make myself clear?”

Shireen looked up, her brow furrowed. “Well… how come I don’t get to make sure you and Sansa are treating each other with respect?”

“Noble as your intentions no doubt are, Sansa and I are adults.” Stannis felt his face heat up again. “We can look out for ourselves. You, on the other hand, are my underage daughter. I am responsible for your wellbeing.” _And unlike your mother, I do not intend to shirk that responsibility._

Shireen frowned for a moment. “As if that’s fair.” It was a sullen statement, but Stannis could tell that she wasn’t going to fight him on this anymore.

“It’s more than fair. Now finish your breakfast.”

***

Sansa was surprised when Shireen didn’t immediately interrogate her about her date with Stannis when she arrived for the afternoon’s tutoring session. Shireen _did_ tell Sansa all about the way Ned had put his arm around her while they watched a movie last night, so Sansa decided that she was probably just too wrapped up in her own romantic life to show her dad’s much interest. In her shoes, Sansa doubted she’d want to know too many details.

She didn’t find out that she was wrong about that assumption until it was almost time for her to leave.

“Aren’t you going to stay for dinner?” Shireen asked, an unreadable expression on her face. “I thought you’d be even more keen to stay now that you and my dad are… you know...“ she trailed off pointedly, doing something very odd with her eyebrows.

Sansa felt herself blush. “Do you think he wants me to stay for dinner?”

“Of course he wants you to stay,” Shireen said, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you?” Sansa suppressed the urge to chew on her bottom lip as she waited for an answer.

Shireen shrugged in an overly careless sort of way. “Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, maybe this is too weird for you?”

With a loud sigh, Shireen rubbed her face. “Dad’s weird. You’re fine. I’m sure dinner will be fine.”

“Why is he weird?” Sansa’s heart was suddenly beating a little faster.

Shireen dropped her hands from her face and looked at Sansa. “You should have seen his face when I asked him how your date went.”

Her heart raced faster. “You talked about our date? What did he say?”

Shireen walked over to her bed and flopped down on it dramatically. “ _Nothing._ He’s so touchy about the subject. When I tried to ask how it went he got mad and told me I wasn’t allowed to pry. Meanwhile he gets to make Cressen babysit me while I’m on _my_ date, and make sure Ned is ‘respectful’. He’s the _worst._ ”

Sansa’s heart slowed back down and she had to suppress a smile. “I’m sure there are worse dads out here.”

“You’re just saying that because you like him.”

She ducked her head. “I do like him. But you know he’s a good father. You’re just frustrated with him right now.”

“ _Beyond_ frustrated. I mean, I know I probably shouldn’t have asked whether he’d slept over at your place, but I don’t know… I couldn’t help myself!”

Sansa’s heartbeat, which had just gone back to normal, stopped for a second. “You asked him _what?_ ” The words came out in a high-pitched squeak. When it started up again, her heart felt like it was beating ten times as fast as before.

Shireen sat up and gave Sansa a guilty look. “I’m sorry. Of course I didn’t. I mean, I _did,_ but I won’t do it again.”

Sansa took a deep breath and got up from her place at Shireen’s desk to sit on the bed next to her. “Okay. I know this is weird. It’s weird for me too. But you really can’t ask your dad stuff like that. I mean, do you really want to know the answers to those sorts of questions?”

“I guess not,” Shireen looked down. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“Okay,” Sansa’s heartbeat slowed again, though she still felt jumpy.

“He was nice to you, though? Right?” Shireen asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I mean, he wasn’t rude or a bad date or anything?”

The blush came back with a vengeance, and Sansa smiled down at her lap. “He was wonderful.”

Shireen let herself flop back down into a lying position, a smile on her face. “Good. Ned was wonderful, too.” 

Sansa smiled in return. “You sure he didn’t sneak in a kiss after all that cuddling on the couch?”

“No,” Shireen said, blushing. “But I have a feeling it might happen on our next date. If we manage to get a moment to ourselves.”

“I’m sure you will,” Sansa said. “And it’s going to be lovely. I just know it.” Ned was just the sort of boy Sansa wished she could have met when she was Shireen’s age. Judging by everything Shireen had told her, he was a genuinely kind, sweet guy.

“Did you kiss dad?” Shireen asked, shooting Sansa a furtive look.

Sansa’s stomach did a somersault, and a shiver ran down her spine as her brain filled with the memories of kissing Stannis. “I thought we just agreed that you didn’t really want the details?” Sansa said, trying to compose herself. “And you promised you wouldn’t ask.”

“I promised I wouldn’t ask _Dad._ And that was about, you know,” Shireen lowered her voice to a whisper, “ _sex._ ” She paused and glanced at the door as if she expected someone to come bursting in. “But kissing is okay. We can talk about kissing.”

Sansa bit her lip. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”

“Okay, it’s weird, I get it.” Shireen closed her eyes and sighed. “It’s just - I don’t want to think about my dad on dates, but I also want him to be happy and I want _you_ to be happy. And I think maybe kissing would make you both happy.”

 _You’re not wrong._ “Well, can’t I just tell you that we were both very happy with the date and leave it at that?”

Shireen’s eyes shot open and she sat up, smiling widely. “You just as good as admitted it! You _totally_ kissed.”

Her face felt too warm again. “Why don’t we just make a deal not to talk about it unless something important comes up?” Sansa suggested, her insides squirming.

“That’s basically what Dad said we should do,” Shireen said, nodding. “Keep each other informed, but leave out the details.”

“Smart guy, your dad.”

Shireen shrugged. “I guess.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Anyway, staying for dinner?”

Sansa felt her stomach leap. “Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated. “Would you mind if I - I mean, I didn’t see him when I arrived and I’d just like -”

“Go. Talk to him. Get the smooching out of the way where I don’t have to watch.” Shireen heaved a loud, put-upon sigh, but her eyes were glinting, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Who talks about _smooching_?” Sansa said, hoping her exaggerated eye-roll would be enough to distract Shireen from all the blushing she was doing.

Shireen poked Sansa’s arm with an index finger. “Just go. I’ll be in here until you or Dad tell me the coast is clear.”

Butterflies filled Sansa’s stomach as she made her way from Shireen’s bedroom to Stannis’ study. Would he be pleased to see her? Would he act like always, or would things be different now that they had kissed? (And danced a little less than innocently?)

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before knocking on his door.

“Enter.”

She entered, giving him a little wave. “Hi.” Seeing him again was a bit unnerving. Stannis looked so intimidating sitting behind his big desk, back ramrod straight, and a furrow of concentration on his brow as he stared at his computer screen. He was wearing a grey suit, even though it was Sunday. The only thing that was more casual about this ensemble than his business look, was the notable absence of a tie. The top button of his crisp white shirt was undone, too. Sansa tried not to stare the extra sliver of neck it exposed. She would really not have minded if he had left the tie at home for their date last night.

“Sansa,” Stannis said, turning his head to look at her. She watched his expression transform: the lines of his face smoothing out, and his eyes brightening. “Have you finished with Shireen?”

“Yeah,” she said, pushing a lock of hair behind one ear. Stannis followed the movement with his eyes. “I’m staying for dinner.”

He hesitated. “Did you and Shireen discuss what you want to eat?”

Sansa shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about dinner. She wanted to talk about their date. She wanted to sit down on the sofa and press herself close to him. Inhale the scent of his aftershave and try to get him to kiss her. Maybe lick that tantalising bit of his neck that his top button left exposed…

“Sansa?” Stannis was looking at her with something that looked like mild concern.

“Come sit,” she said, feeling a little lightheaded and breathless, but in a good way. She planted herself on the sofa.

Stannis’ lips parted for a moment, but he closed them quickly and rose from his seat, buttoning his suit jacket as he went. She was sure it was an automatic movement. He was about to sit back down, after all; he’d only need to unbutton it again. Sansa stared unabashedly as he crossed the room. He was _tall._ But not in the gangly way some of the tallest boys in her year at school had been. He was in complete command of all his limbs. She smiled when his fingers nimbly undid the suit jacket’s button again when he reached her.

It took a lot of effort not to drape herself across his lap the second he sat down.

_I am a lady. I am a lady._

“Hi,” she said again, giving into the urge to slide herself closer, but otherwise keeping herself under control. The faint scent of his aftershave tested her resolve sorely.

“Hello,” he said, a small note of confusion in his tone. His eyes were darkening however, and he seemed to be looking at her hair. She had worn it down for him today. She had debated wearing it down for their date last night, but when she had decided to wear that backless dress, she had basically been forced to put her hair up to show it off properly.

“I had a really nice time last night,” she said, keeping her voice low. Hopefully flirtatious. “Thank you.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, inhaling deeply as she did.

“You’re welcome.” His voice was low, too.

“How about you? Did you have a good time?” She couldn’t keep her hands to herself, so she smoothed down the lapels of his jacket and wiped the nonexistent lipstick mark off his cheek.

“Ah - yes.” His breath had hitched. The note of confusion was still there. He was watching her hands now.

“Did you get your car back?” she asked, not particularly curious about the answer, but feeling like she had to keep the conversation going to distract him. She ran her index finger down the neat line of buttons that kept his shirt closed, idly circling each one. Or at least she hoped it came off as idle.

“I did.” His hand caught hers, and his eyes searched her face. She saw him swallow.

The air was thick with tension. She did not think she had ever wanted to kiss a man’s neck as much as she wanted it now. 

“I should order dinner,” he said.

“Mm.” She bit her bottom lip. Not because she felt the particular need to bite it; she just wanted to draw his gaze to her lips. 

It worked. His eyes were fixed on her mouth now, and his face moved closer by an inch.

She decided to make her wishes abundantly clear and let her eyelids flutter closed, lifting her chin a little, and licking her lips.

“ _Sansa._ ” It was more of a groan than anything else, and Sansa knew there was no need for her to say anything. His hands were cupping her face, and he was closing the distance, pulling her in for a deep, hungry kiss.

Without the light haze created by the alcohol she’d had last night, she was able to notice the details of kissing Stannis a lot more clearly. He obviously hadn’t shaved this morning, as the texture of his skin was more sandpapery than it had been last night. His lips were soft, but a little dry, and his tongue tasted of nothing but him as it slid over hers, tasting her in turn. His hands felt big and warm on her back, and she moaned when he started rubbing little circles.

A warm, pulsing sensation started up between her thighs, and she felt her muscles relax until she felt almost as buttery as she did after a long massage.

His grip on her tightened, holding her at a distance as he pulled back. She chased him anyway, determined to kiss his neck before she lost her chance.

He made a strangled noise when her lips found the hollow of his throat, her tongue darting out for a taste. His hands slid to her waist and clamped down. Not hard enough to hurt her, but definitely hinting at the force he _could_ exert if he wanted.

Reluctantly, she pulled back. “Dinner you say?” she breathed, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. “How about Lysene cuisine?”

His nostrils flared, and his eyes had gone almost completely black. “Perhaps you should go and make the call.” His voice had gone hoarse. “I’ll join you and Shireen in a little while.” He crossed his legs, a pinched look appearing on his face.

She squeezed her thighs together, her face heating up. Her blood felt like syrup in her veins. Leaving to let him compose himself was the last thing she wanted, but the parts of her that weren’t overridden with hormonal urges knew it was probably for the best. It wasn’t as if she wanted her first time with Stannis to be some furtive, hurried shag on his sofa. (Okay, maybe a little. But not _really._ )

“Okay. See you downstairs in a bit.” She pecked his lips and got up. When she reached the door she turned and looked at him. “You never asked me for a second date,” she said, keeping her voice gentle and teasing. “Do you want to keep seeing me?”

Stannis’ eyes widened for a second. “I do, of course. Yes. I apologise if I failed to make that clear.” His voice was overly formal and it contrasted wildly with his agitated demeanour.

She beamed at him, her heart fluttering. “Just making sure.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, clearly still affected by their kiss.

The last thing she saw before she left the study, was Stannis shifting on the couch, his face riddled with unresolved tension, his dark eyes following her.


	15. The Theatre

“How was your weekend?” Davos asked, setting two cups of tea down on Stannis’ desk. They usually took half an hour on Monday mornings to get their first doses of caffeine for the day, and organise the upcoming week.

This was the first time in a long while that Stannis felt the urge to answer Davos’ polite question with something other than ‘fine’.

“I took Sansa Stark on a date.”

Davos had been in the middle of lifting his cup of tea to his lips, but stopped in mid air, his mouth dropping open, his eyes widening. “What?” Davos put the tea back on the desk. “I thought you weren’t interested in her like that? I thought you were going to encourage her to flirt with boys her own age…” Davos trailed off, rubbing his face with one hand.

“I tried,” Stannis said, taking a careful sip of his hot tea. “But she said she was only interested in me, and asked me to take her to dinner.”

Davos shook his head. “And you just… did what she told you to do?” He paused and stared at Stannis. “What about Shireen? Does she know about this? Is Sansa going to keep tutoring her?”

“She knows, and yes. Sansa is going to continue. At least for now.”

“And… how was it?” Davos was blinking very rapidly. “The date, I mean.”

“Good,” Stannis said, his mind drifting back towards the kiss they had shared at the dance club, and then to the kiss in his study. _Too good._

“Did you sleep with her!?” Davos asked, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

Stannis snapped out of his recollections and glared at Davos. “What gave you that idea? It was only our first date. I know how to conduct myself properly. And Sansa Stark is not some _trollop._ ”

Davos held up his hands, palms out. “First of all, there’s really no need to be judgmental. A lot of people sleep together after one date. And secondly, I didn’t mean to offend. You just had a… look... on your face. It caught me off guard.”

Stannis clenched his jaw. A gentleman did not kiss and tell, but there was a difference between confiding and telling. Davos would never repeat anything Stannis told him. (Unlike _some_ people.) “We kissed,” he said, watching Davos’ face carefully for his reaction.

Davos blinked. “That’s… I mean, I suppose you’re going to go on another date then?” His tone and expression were frustratingly unreadable.

“We kissed again yesterday,” Stannis said. “After she finished tutoring Shireen. And she stayed for dinner. Does that count as a date?” He frowned, wondering if there was some sort of definition written down somewhere.

“Was Shireen there?”

“Yes. I mean, Shireen was there for dinner. Not during… not when we kissed.” Stannis took a sip of his tea, suddenly wanting to occupy his hands.

Davos reached for his own cup in turn, sipping it thoughtfully. “If Shireen was there, I wouldn’t count it as a date. I doubt you were talking about the sorts of things you’d discuss in private, were you?”

“No.”

They drank more tea in silence.

“So. You like her, then?” Davos peered at him over the rim of his cup, a curious look on his face.

Stannis felt his face warm up. He nodded.

“You should have told me that the other day,” Davos sighed. “I’d have given you different advice.”

“Would you?” Stannis raised a brow.

Davos chuckled. “Well, we’ll never know, will we? You do realise this is going to cause a bit of a stir when this gets out? I may not have been born with a silver spoon up my arse, but I’ve been around you lot for long enough to know what counts as a scandal.”

Stannis ground his teeth for a moment. “That will depend entirely on how we go about things. I am not my brother.”

A puzzled expression appeared on Davos’ face.

Stannis sighed. “As long as I am perceived to be treating her with all the consideration she is due - which I fully intend to do - I doubt there will be a scandal. Gossip, certainly, but nothing to be concerned with.”

“Isn’t that a little optimistic? She is your daughter’s tutor. And the age difference -”

“She is a Stark. I am a Baratheon. The circumstances of how we met are inconsequential. And there have been larger age differences in the circles we run in.”

Davos muttered something. Stannis didn’t quite catch it, but he thought he heard the word ‘snobs’ in there somewhere.

“Trust me,” Stannis said, pausing to drain the last of his tea from his cup, “as long as I don’t treat her the way Robert treats his - ah - _girlfriends_ , it will be fine.”

Davos finished his own tea. “Hm.”

Stannis narrowed his eyes. “‘Hm’ what?”

“What I’m hearing, is that you would have tried to do more than kiss her if you thought you could get away with it.” Davos grinned widely.

“Don’t be crass,” Stannis said, feeling blood rush to his face, guilty reminders of the fantasies he’d had after the date dancing in front of his mind’s eye.

“I’m just messing with you,” Davos laughed. “I’m glad you’ve found someone to spend a bit of time with. Let me know if you need any help finding new places for dates. Marya and I have tried most of the good spots through the years.”

Their conversation turned towards work after that, but Stannis’ mind couldn’t help but return to the idea of ‘doing more than kissing’ with Sansa a fair few times that day. Unfortunately, he got the feeling that letting his mind wander down that path gave him a glazed expression, as Davos tended to smirk at him whenever it happened.

Stannis promised himself he’d do better tomorrow.

***

“What’s Stannis Baratheon like on a date?” Jeyne asked as they waited for their avocado toast at the little café down the street from their apartment.

It was Monday morning, and neither one of them had class until after lunch.

“I told you yesterday,” Sansa said, avoiding Jeyne’s eyes and staring out the window. The street outside wasn’t busy, but the sky was a very pretty shade of blue. Soon it would be time for finals. And summer hols. Sansa smiled at the thought.

“No, all you said was that you had a good time. Then you absconded. I need the _details._ ”

“He was great. We took me do dinner and then we went dancing.”

“ _And?_ ”

Sansa shifted in her chair, still resolutely avoiding Jeyne’s eyes. “And what?”

“Did you kiss? Is it like kissing a brick wall? Does he even have a tongue?”

Sansa looked at Jeyne and couldn’t help but laugh. The desperately curious expression on her face was as amusing as it was dramatic. “No, it was not like kissing a brick wall, and of course he has a tongue. You’re talking like a crazy person.”

“I knew it! I knew you kissed! Did you do anything else? Please tell me he’s hung like a horse. Arya and I have this theory about Baratheon men -”

Sansa scrunched her nose up. “I do not need to know what you and Arya talk about. I didn’t even know that you talked at all.”

“Oh, we bonded a couple of years ago. She needed some fake ID, and I gave her one of my old ID cards. Personally I don’t think we look very much alike, but you know how bouncers are.” Jeyne rolled her eyes. “They think one brunette is basically the same as another. Anyway, she’s a lot less annoying now than when she was a kid.”

“How did I miss this?” Sansa shook her head, feeling a little like her world had been turned on its head. “But yeah, no. I definitely do not know how Stannis is hung. And if your theory is that all Baratheon men are huge, Joff definitely disproves it. He’s only about average.”

Jeyne gave an exaggerated shudder. “Ugh. Joff. Let’s not talk about _him._ ”

The waitress arrived with their food, and for a while the only conversation at the table was about the quality of the avocado toast. (Good, but not the best they’d had.)

Jeyne was not ready to let the subject of Stannis die, however. “So what kind of kiss was it? Typical first date kiss? Did he get handsy? Or oh, did _you_ get handsy?”

Sansa felt herself blush. “A lady doesn’t tell.”

“Handsy, huh?” Jeyne grinned. “Cool.”

Feeling very put-upon, Sansa tried to focus on eating the rest of her toast.

“Has he asked you on another date yet?”

“No. But it’s only Monday, and we saw each other yesterday, too.”

Jeyne’s face lit up. “And what happened yesterday? Did you get any alone time?” As she said the word ‘alone’, Jeyne wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Sansa couldn’t help but giggle. “We managed to talk in private for a little bit, but then I just had dinner with him and Shireen like usual.”

“No action?”

Sansa shrugged. “Just a little more kissing.”

“I can’t picture him kissing anyone,” Jeyne said, fishing some foamed milk out of her latte and sucking thoughtfully on the spoon. “Like, I was kind of scared of him when he arrived to pick you up. His face is super serious. I didn’t dare make conversation.”

“He’s different when you get to know him.” Sansa looked out the window again, wondering why Stannis had so many walls surrounding him. She had her suspicions, but it wasn’t as if she could be _sure_. One thing was certain, however: Stannis was not used to receiving affection. Especially not _physical_ affection.

“Different with _you,_ you mean,” Jeyne said, rolling her eyes. “I saw the way his expression changed when you came out of your room. It was like he was seeing the sun for the first time or something.”

Sansa stirred the whipped cream into her hot chocolate and tried to tell her face to stop blushing.

“You looked happy, too,” Jeyne said, her tone suddenly softer and more serious. “When you saw him.”

“I like him,” Sansa said. It was an understatement. “I’ve liked him for a while.”

“Well, I hope he’s hung more like Gendry than Joff, then.” Jeyne grinned wickedly.

Sansa rolled her eyes and groaned. “Please don’t tell me things like that about my sister’s boyfriend!” She was still blushing, however, her thoughts firmly lodged in the gutter. She’d only really seen and felt a bulge on Saturday night, and it was difficult to judge very accurately based just on that, but she was fairly sure Stannis was at least bigger than Joff.

She tried not to be too obvious about the way she had to squirm in her seat after thinking about it.

Thankfully Jeyne changed the subject to a TV show she’d been binging, and Sansa was able to pull herself together.

***

For their second date, Stannis took Sansa to the theatre. It wasn’t opening night. Far from it. It was one of the last shows of the season. But Davos had said that watching a movie was a good activity for a second date, and Stannis considered the theatre to be the only tolerable alternative to a sticky-floored, popcorn-strewn _cinema._

Stannis didn’t really pay much attention to the first half of the production. Sansa kept touching him. Leaning close. Pointing out a costume she liked, or whispering that her favourite bit was coming up and he should notice this or that about the actor’s delivery of the lines. By the time the curtain rose for intermission, she had wound herself around one of his arms and rested her head on his shoulder.

Stannis didn’t really know how to respond to it all.

“Should we go get something to drink?” she asked, smoothing down the lapels of his jacket the way she seemed to like doing.

His throat was very dry. A drink would probably help with that. “Yes.”

Sansa stayed close to him as they made their way to the bar, and Stannis felt a jolt of surprise when they passed a floor length mirror and he saw what they looked like together. He had worn his black suit again, though he had opted for a white shirt this time. Sansa was wearing an old-fashioned dress with a skirt that flared out from her waist and skimmed her knees. It was a deep, royal blue, with gold accents. The overall image was almost like something out of a magazine. Sansa was glowing, and she made him look elegant and refined just by standing next to him.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“You already said,” Sansa said, ducking her head, causing a lock of hair to fall forward. She’d left her hair loose, cascading down her back in waves and ringlets that just begged to be touched. His hands had been itching to do so since he’d picked her up. “But thank you. Again.” When she looked back up her smile had widened. “This is a vintage dress, you know.”

He nodded wordlessly.

“I like your suit,” she said, unwinding herself from his arm and planting herself right in front of him instead. She closed in until she was standing near enough for him to feel the heat of her breath when she exhaled. “But I kind of wish you’d leave the tie at home,” she added, trailing her fingers down the silk of his tie. “Leave the top button of your shirt undone…”

Stannis swallowed. They had seen each other a few times over the last week, in passing when she’d come to the house to tutor Shireen, but they hadn’t kissed since Sunday. He could still vividly remember the way she had licked the hollow of his throat. “I’m not certain that would be wise,” he said, glancing around and wondering if he dared rest his hands on her waist. Was it too intimate for a second date? In public? Or was it just intimate enough?

“You’re probably right. It might be too… distracting.” Sansa bit her lip and gave him a heated look.

His hands went to her waist without another thought, and he took a step closer even though they were practically nose to nose already.

“Sansa?” A raised voice floated over. Male. “Sansa Stark! Is that you?”

Stannis took a quick step back, his stomach sinking and his heart hammering.

Sansa looked around. “Loras!” She smiled brightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Loras had walked over and was kissing Sansa’s cheeks. “Who’s this tall drink of -” Loras stopped dead when he met Stannis’ eyes, his face paling. “Hello Stannis,” he finished weakly.

“I’m here with him,” Sansa said breezily, acting as if Loras’ face hadn’t just drained of all colour. “We’re dating. Is Renly around here somewhere? We should find him and say hello.”

Loras closed his eyes and held his hands up. “Slow down. You two are _dating?_ ”

Sansa wound herself around Stannis’ arm again, pressing herself close. The sensation was pleasant, and yet his heart continued to hammer away, and his stomach sank further. “This is only our second date, but yes.”

Stannis finally found his voice. “Actually, we were just on our way to the bar.” He gave Loras a sharp, pointed look.

“Me too!” Loras trilled, blithely ignoring Stannis’ glare. “Let’s all go. Then we can find Renly and you can tell us both the whole story.”

Stannis scowled as they all started walking towards the bar, only half listening to Loras tell Sansa that Renly was waiting for him at a table they had grabbed a little way off. Apparently, Renly and Loras had seen this production three times already, but loved it so much that they had wanted to catch it one last time before it was too late. By the time they got their drinks, Loras and Sansa were debating whether the main star of the show should have stepped aside to make way for the much more talented understudy, and whether the director had made the right choice when it came to the child actors.

Stannis gulped most of his club soda down before they made it over to Renly. His sunken stomach felt tight and uncomfortable. He had been hoping that he and Sansa would have a few more dates before the news of their relationship got out to his brothers.

“Look who I found!” Loras said as soon as they reached Renly’s table.

Renly spotted Sansa first and smiled. The smile became a grimace as soon as he saw Stannis, however. “Oh, joy. Hello Stannis.”

“He and Sansa are on their second date,” Loras said, handing Renly his flute of Champagne and sitting down next to him. Sansa sat down too, so Stannis was forced to take the fourth chair.

Renly’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Stannis scowled. Loras and Sansa both nodded.

“Well, what do you know…” Renly trailed off, sipping his Champagne and staring from Sansa to Stannis and back again. “How did you two meet? Hardly through Robert? You never came to those family dinners he used to throw when Sansa was with Joffrey, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Stannis said, wishing his glass wasn’t empty.

“You didn’t miss much,” Loras said with a shrug. “Although Cersei did make the most _scandalous_ scene once -”

“Never mind that,” Renly waved a hand at Loras, shushing him, “I want to know how they met.”

“I’ve been tutoring Shireen,” Sansa offered, sipping her own Champagne delicately.

Renly’s eyes brightened, and he smiled as if his nameday had come early. “ _Really?_ ”

Stannis glared at his brother.

“Yes. We’ve been getting to know each other for a while now. And he rescued me from an unfortunate situation a few months back. I couldn’t help but notice him in a different light after that.”

“How romantic,” Loras said, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and smiling.

“It’s really all quite new, though,” Sansa said. Stannis almost jumped when he felt her hand squeeze his thigh under the table. She didn’t withdraw her hand after. She just left it there, burning a hole through his suit trousers and making his heart race.

“Never pegged you as the type to go around rescuing damsels,” Renly said, chuckling. “You never wanted to play knights with me when we were younger.”

“I was a teenager when you were playing those games,” Stannis muttered.

Renly shrugged. “Didn’t stop Robert from joining in the fun.”

“Robert never stopped being a child. Neither did you.”

Renly’s face flushed and he opened his mouth.

“Gentlemen,” Loras said before Renly got a chance to speak, “let’s keep this civil, shall we?”

Sansa was squeezing Stannis’ thigh again.

Renly tilted his head back and drank the rest of his Champagne in one go. “Never mind. Let’s just get back to our seats. Leave the two lovebirds to it.”

Loras shot Sansa an apologetic look before he and Renly left, but he didn’t say anything.

“Should we go back to our seats, too?” Sansa asked, her brow still furrowed. “Or do you want to leave?” Her voice was tinged with sympathy.

“I’m fine,” Stannis said curtly. “We can return to our seats.”

***

Sansa wished Loras hadn’t seen her. She didn’t mind people seeing her with Stannis; they had nothing to hide, and nothing to be ashamed of. But Stannis’ mood had been dark ever since they spoke to Renly, and she really didn’t want their date to end on that kind of note. Determined to salvage the evening, she persuaded Stannis to drive them up Aegon's High Hill. There was a spot where people could park and take in the view, and since the stars were just coming out, Sansa thought it would be nice. Of course, if they had been in Winterfell they’d be able to see a lot more stars. The streetlights of King’s Landing spoiled things a little.

When they arrived, Sansa saw that they weren’t the only ones there, but Stannis parked a good distance from the nearest car.

The city lights twinkled up at them while the stars twinkled down from above. Between the city and the sky there was nothing but the inky blackness of the sea. All was still. Sansa wondered whether she’d be able to hear the ocean if she were to step outside.

“It’s beautiful here,” Sansa said, looking at the view, but also paying close attention to Stannis with her peripheral vision. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but he appeared to be brooding.

“Mm.”

“I haven’t been up here since I first came to the city.”

Stannis said nothing.

“I came here with Arya,” she went on, wondering whether she was doing the right thing. Perhaps she should leave the subject of siblings alone. “We never agree on much, but we both loved the view.”

Sansa could tell that she had gained Stannis’ attention. He was no longer staring into the middle distance.

“It took us a long time to figure out how to get along, but I’m glad we did. The hardest part - for me - was letting go of the dream I had of what a little sister was ‘supposed to be like’ and learn to appreciate and respect Arya for the person she is.”

“Did she learn to do the same for you?”

“I think so. She still teases me about being a girly girl, but it doesn’t feel like it comes from a resentful place. Not like when we were little.”

Stannis frowned. “If you’re so pleased with your sister, why did you tell me you were looking to create a sisterly bond with Shireen when I interviewed you?”

“You know how it is,” she, feeling her face heat up. She still hadn’t told Stannis that part of her reason for wanting to tutor Shireen had nothing to do with creating sisterly bonds, and everything to do with wanting to help a girl she’d heard nothing but unkind things about. She doubted she ever would. Stannis had his pride, and Sansa did not think she could stomach repeating the things Shireen’s own family had said about her. No good would come of it. She took a deep breath. “I always dreamt of a little sister I could mentor, but when I realised I’d never have that with Arya I just… looked elsewhere.”

“And your sister doesn’t resent that?”

Sansa smiled despite the pressure she could suddenly feel, weighing her heart down. “She told me it was a big relief, actually.”

Stannis didn’t crack a smile in return. He stared out at the view, clenching his jaw tightly.

They were silent for a long time.

“Robert replaced me,” Stannis eventually said. “I might have understood if he had found someone more like him to replace me with. Someone loud and crass and careless.”

Sansa’s stomach squeezed in on itself. She wanted to touch him - reassure him - but she didn’t dare move or even breathe.

“But he found someone quiet and serious,” Stannis finished, the muscles of his neck and jaw working furiously.

Sansa knew Stannis was talking about her father, but she didn’t know what to say. She had never really thought about it in these terms, but it seemed obvious now that Robert had shunted Stannis aside in order to nurture a friendship with a man who had a lot in common with Stannis.

_No wonder he’s hurt._

“I’m sorry,” Sansa said. She gathered her courage and reached over to stroke Stannis’ cheek.

“It’s no fault of yours.”

“I’m still sorry Robert couldn’t be the brother you wanted.”

Stannis turned his face towards her and caught her outstretched hand in one of his. His grip was firm, but gentle. His eyes arresting. “Did you mean what you said earlier? Did you start thinking differently of me after I picked you up from that party?”

Sansa felt herself blush. “I liked you before,” she admitted. “But yeah, I really couldn’t stop thinking about you after that.”

Stannis appeared to be considering her words. “When did you start?”

Sansa took a deep breath. “Liking you? I don’t honestly know… Maybe after you danced with me before Shireen’s Winter Dance? I remember being so disappointed when we had to stop.” She paused and bit her lip. “How about you?”

Stannis shifted in his seat and turned to look straight out at the view. “I don’t quite know either. I remember being… impressed when we discussed Addam Marbrand and Tywin Lannister over dinner.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of her. “I seduced you with my knowledge of politics?”

He faced her again, looking at her in a way that made her breath catch. “Among other things. Though I hardly think I’ve been seduced yet.” He raised a brow.

Her cheeks still felt warm from before, but now the rest of her body started to overheat. “Do you want me to seduce you?”

Stannis didn’t answer her. Instead he leant in for a kiss, his hands going straight to her hair.

Sansa would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been hoping for this when she’d asked Stannis to drive them here.

The kiss almost seemed to pick up where they’d left off in his study on Sunday. There was no experimenting. They both knew what they wanted.

***

Every dark thought brought on by the meeting with Renly and the conversation about Robert had vanished. All he could think of now was the fact that he was kissing Sansa again, his hands finally - _finally_ \- running through her long hair. It felt even better than he had imagined.

Seeing her around the house, knowing she was there for Shireen and not for him, had been torture these past days. But it had been even worse at the theatre, having her so close, touching him at every opportunity, pressing herself close and _tempting_ him.

But now it was just them.

Sansa’s lips were unimaginably soft, and so was everything about the way she kissed. Even when she wasn’t simply yielding to him and allowing him to slide his tongue where he pleased; when she was licking into his mouth, exploring and tasting, she did it softly. Slowly. As if she had all the time in the world and never intended to stop.

Stannis wanted to surround himself with her. Sink into her. Drown in her.

She started kissing his neck, tugging on his tie to get at more skin. The memory of last Sunday shuddered through him and he groaned.

“Do you want to move to the backseat?” Sansa whispered into his ear.

 _Yes._ “I think I ought to take you home,” he forced himself to say, reluctantly pulling his hands from her hair.

“Please? I just want to kiss for a little longer…”

“We can do that in the front.”

“My neck hurts,” she pouted. She was still touching him everywhere she could reach. 

Ordinarily he’d be irritated with anyone who resorted to pouting to get their way, but Stannis could tell that Sansa wasn’t seriously pouting. (She’d hardly be feeling him up if she was.) He knew she’d drop the matter if he put his foot down. All he had to do was show her that he was serious about stopping. Nothing easier.

“All right,” his traitorous mouth said. 

And then he was sitting in the back of his car, helplessly aroused by the sudden lapful of wriggling, warm, soft girl, breathless due to the renewed intensity of her kisses.

She moaned when he buried one hand in her hair again, savouring the way it slid between his fingers, and she shuddered when he trailed his other hand up and down her back, letting his nails rake lightly over the patches of bare skin her dress revealed. Her breasts were soft against his chest, and he found himself pressing her close, wanting to feel them better. Since Sansa was straddling his lap, the material of her skirt pooling around them, this also had the - completely unintended - side effect of grinding her against his erection.

“Stannis -“ Her voice was as breathless as he felt. A jolt of pleasure shot through him at the sound of his name.

She was wriggling more. Grinding down on him in a way that wasn’t the least bit random. It was rhythmic and focused, and - _fucking hells she’s using my cock to get off._ He shuddered, and somehow, impossibly, he felt himself harden further. If this went on there wouldn’t be a drop of blood left in his brain.

Sansa moved on to making little whimpering sounds. She had stopped kissing him, and was simply clutching at him and moving her hips urgently.

His hips were thrusting up to meet her, even though he was trying to stay still, her hair tangled around one hand. His eyes refused to stay open, and he was taking sharp, shallow breaths that did nothing to help him regain his self control.

Thankfully he was not nearing his own completion the way it sounded like Sansa was nearing hers. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live down the shame of coming in his pants at his age. He was nearing his wit’s end, however. The desire to tear their clothes off and do this _properly_ was filling his mind, pushing every rational thought aside.

Before he lost his head completely, Sansa’s whimpering turned into something like muffled squealing, and she stopped moving. She sagged against him, her breathing ragged and uneven.

For what felt like a long time, they were quiet and still.

“I needed that,” Sansa sighed, sliding off his lap and sitting down next to him. The hand that had been buried in her hair felt suddenly very empty. He watched her smooth the skirt of her dress and comb through her hair with her fingers, but felt too tense and on edge to attempt to do something about his own dishevelled appearance. It was dark, anyway.

She leaned in for a kiss, and though he welcomed it, he couldn’t help groaning. His cock was twitching, and the desire to tear their clothes off was still taking up a lot of space in his head.

“Do you want me to -“ Sansa trailed her hand down to cup the bulge at the front of his trousers and finished her sentence with a pointed look.

 _It isn’t dignified,_ he thought, gritting his teeth. _We’re in a car. Anyone might walk by._ His heart raced at the thought. “You don’t have to.“

She squeezed lightly. His hips bucked.

“I know,” she whispered, kissing him.

He didn’t object when she undid his belt and attacked the button and zipper below it. His face felt too hot, and he was breathing irregularly, but he didn’t want her to stop. His eyes kept darting to the windows all around them. The darkness outside.

Sansa pushed his boxer briefs down and his cock came free of his fly. Her hand felt so much smaller and softer than his own when she wrapped it around him.

He exhaled loudly.

She started to move, pumping her hand up and down. Had this been foreplay, her gentle grip and teasing pace would have been perfect; as things stood, it was torture.

“Here,” his voice was rough, but he tried to keep the hand he wrapped around hers gentle. He showed her what he needed.

Fast. Hard. Relentless. This was not the time to prove his stamina. Not when someone might walk by the car at any second.

_Gods._

Soon he was thrusting up into her hand, panting.

“I’m going to come,” he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shuddering. They shot back open when he felt Sansa lean over, bringing her head to his lap. “What are you-?”

For a second he was transfixed by the sight of her hair flowing all over his lap, ringlets and waves sliding and glinting in the near-darkness.

And then he felt her mouth on him.

A spine-tingling orgasm shot through him as soon as Sansa’s lips enveloped the head of his cock, her hand still pumping his length.

As if from a distance, he could hear himself swearing and chanting her name, the back of his head hitting something, soft hair filling his hand, but he couldn’t really process it. His entire being was focused on the release. The pleasure. The pillow-soft lips surrounding his hyper-sensitive flesh, the hot, wet mouth and the slippery movement of a tongue, licking.

Too soon, she sat back up. He watched, dazedly, limbs heavy, as she pushed her hair back and wiped the corners of her mouth with her fingertips.

“Why did you - ” His heart was still pounding. He looked out the window, wondering if anyone had wandered past them while he’d been distracted. A vivid mental image of what an onlooker would have seen assaulted him. Sansa’s head in his lap, his hand buried in her hair, his own head thrown back in pleasure, hips jerking.

 _Fuck._ His cock twitched more powerfully than it had any right to.

Sansa gave an elegant little shrug. “Less messy.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, feeling completely _wrecked._ He had had his share of sex - he had been married after all - but oral sex was sinful according to Selyse, so this was the first time he’d experienced even a hint of it.

He hadn’t thought he’d been missing much.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled at him and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I liked it.” She paused and examined his face closely. Her smile faded. “Didn’t you like it?”

“I did.” The words came out embarrassingly quickly, and Stannis was glad for the cover of darkness. He was acutely aware of how red his face had to be. He took a breath and tried to remember what being dignified was like. “Thank you.”

Sansa started to smile again.

When he saw that, Stannis stopped worrying about sounding dignified. He stopped worrying about anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My inspiration for Sansa's dress.](http://sarahtheblack.tumblr.com/post/179512777228/found-through-google)


	16. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! ♥

“May I borrow Sansa for a moment?”

It was Sunday afternoon, and Sansa and Shireen were in the middle of a tutoring session.

“If you must,” Shireen said, sighing dramatically. The smile in her eyes made it obvious that she didn’t actually mind, however.

Sansa beamed and hurried towards the door, feeling her face warm as she considered what Stannis might want her for. Did he want to talk about what they’d done in the car last night? Did he want to _do_ more of what they’d done in the car last night?

Unable to resist, she wound both hands around one of his arms. Just as he had done at the theatre, he jumped a little at the contact. A sharp twinge shot through her heart. _He’s so unused to being touched._

Once they were seated side by side on the sofa in his study, Sansa turned her body towards him and gave him a look that she hoped was both polite and attentive.

“I should apologise,” Stannis began stiffly, looking over her shoulder rather than straight at her.

She blinked at him. “Whatever for?”

“Firstly, I was not a gentleman last night.” He was clenching his jaw and still not meeting her eyes. “And secondly, I have neglected to settle the matter of your tutoring wages properly.”

Sansa moved closer to him until their thighs were pressed together. “I enjoyed last night.” _Even though what I did wasn’t exactly ladylike._ She felt her cheeks flush, but pressed on regardless. “And I thought we’d discussed my wages. I won’t accept any money for tutoring Shireen. Not while we’re dating.”

Stannis cleared his throat. “I also behaved badly during our conversation with Loras and Renly.” He seemed determined to be in the wrong.

“You weren’t ready to talk about what we have,” Sansa said. She had given the matter a great deal of thought. “I understand. I wasn’t ready to tell my family, either.”

He gave her a sharp look, edged with hurt.

“It’s not that I want to keep it a secret,” Sansa explained hurriedly. “I’d tell them if it came up in conversation, but it’s just… they always ask so many questions. They’d want to know whether this is serious, and if it’s going somewhere.”

Stannis frowned. “Of course this is serious.”

Her heart suddenly felt like it was in her throat. “Really?”

Stannis nodded. “And I certainly expect it to lead somewhere,” he added.

For a moment she stared at him, unable to process what he was saying. She hadn’t let herself think _too_ far ahead when it came to Stannis. Maybe her younger self would have jumped straight to picking out their wedding colours after their first kiss, but that wasn’t her anymore. She had been content to take things one step at a time, though she’d certainly hoped they were stepping closer to something serious. A long term relationship. But hearing _him_ say that he wanted their relationship to progress, that he wanted more... 

She smiled, her chest expanding until she felt lightheaded, and she threw her arms around his neck. At first she just hugged him, but it wasn’t enough, so she kissed him firmly on the lips. He froze as if stunned, but started to respond after only a few seconds. His tongue was eager, and she gasped a little when his large hands stroked their way down her back, pulling her onto his lap with a startling amount of strength. It was almost like being manhandled, and Sansa wasn’t sure why that flooded her with heat. She had never liked it when Joff had been rough with her.

Somehow, this was completely different.

Though she was sitting sideways across his lap, and not straddling him the way she had last night, she could still feel him harden beneath her. She broke their kiss and wriggled, watching for his reaction. He was tensing every muscle in his face and neck, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and she heard a groan emanate from deep within his chest.

“I think we should stay in for our next date,” she whispered, breathless.

She saw Stannis swallow as he opened his eyes to consider her. “Stay in?” His voice was low and graveled. The heat in his gaze making her want to squirm.

“Mmhm.” She kissed his cheek. “Maybe we could cook something together?” The innocent tone she had been aiming for came out suggestive instead.

“I’ve never cooked.”

“Me neither,” Sansa admitted. Her culinary skills mostly covered the reheating of leftover take-out. And making lemon cupcakes. That she could do.

“We could… order in?” Stannis suggested, his tone hesitant, his eyes searching hers.

“Great idea,” Sansa said, trying to tell him wordlessly that it was okay. She was the one who wanted an excuse to spend time with him in private. He wasn’t pushing her. (The thought of him _pushing_ \- preferably firmly against her - had her mind straying for a moment.)

“Saturday?” His eyes had darkened. 

Sansa wondered whether his mind was straying, too. The heat at her centre intensified at the idea that he might be thinking about them. Together. Her face warmed with something that wasn’t just embarrassment, and she nodded.

“I could ask Davos to invite Shireen over for dinner at his house,” Stannis said, his tone still a little hesitant.

“That sounds perfect,” Sansa said, hardly recognising her own voice. It had gone all low and throaty. “Will there be a dress code?” she added on a whim.

Stannis furrowed his brow.

“Would you like me to wear anything in particular?” she clarified, smiling internally when she saw the tips of his ears redden.

He drew in a sharp breath and looked at her hair. It was gathered into a ponytail today. He tugged lightly on it. “Just leave you hair down,” he said, his voice an octave deeper than usual.

“Okay.” She squirmed on his lap. “Nothing else?”

He closed his eyes and went rigid for a moment. Sansa blushed as she realised how her words could have been interpreted, and her stomach swooped at the idea that he might be thinking about her wearing her hair loose and _nothing else_.

“Wear something you like,” he said, his hands gripping her tightly.

“I want to wear something _you_ like,” she told him, striving to make her voice sound sexy like it had before. “Which colour is your favourite?”

“Black,” he murmured. Then his eyes went to her hair again. “Red.”

She smiled, feeling warm and flattered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They kissed again, and Sansa let out a whine when they eventually remembered that she was in the middle of tutoring Shireen and had to go back.

She would really much rather have stayed.

***

“Enter,” Stannis said, glancing at the clock on his computer screen and sighing. If this interruption took too much time, he’d be late to his next meeting.

Davos stuck his head inside. “Your brother wants to speak to you,” he said, looking apologetic. “I tried to tell him you have a meeting in a few minutes, but -”

“But I insisted,” Robert said, shoving his way past Davos into Stannis’ office. There was a sharp, angry look in his eyes.

 _Renly,_ Stannis thought, his stomach sinking.

Robert came over to Stannis’ desk to loom threateningly. Davos lingered in the doorway, raising his eyebrows at Stannis in a silent question.

“Go,” Stannis said, grinding his teeth. “Get the meeting room set up. I’m sure Robert will be quick.” 

Davos hesitated a moment longer, but nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

“What?” Stannis asked, standing up to put himself on equal footing with Robert.

“Heard some interesting news a couple of days ago,” Robert said, picking up a pen from Stannis’ desk and twirling it. “Thought Renly was making it up, but then Loras said it was all true, and the Tyrells can usually be trusted to know their gossip.”

“Get to the point,” Stannis said, crossing his arms.

“When were you going to tell me?” Robert asked, throwing the pen back down, his face turning a blotchy red and white.

“It’s none of your business,” Stannis said, pursing his lips.

“None of my -! She’s my best friend’s _daughter!_ She was dating my _son!_ ”

Stannis raised a brow. “I have a very busy schedule, Robert. Get to your point.”

Robert spluttered for a moment, paced back and forth, and came to a halt right in front of Stannis. “I want to know what your intentions are. That’s my point!”

“You’re not her father.”

“But I promised Ned I’d look after her for him!” Robert said, poking Stannis in the chest. “So that gives me the right to make sure -”

“To make sure I won’t treat her as miserably as your son did?” Stannis said coldly, cutting Robert off and pushing his finger away. “Don’t worry. That would be impossible.”

For a moment it looked as if Robert might explode. But then he deflated.

Stannis took a subtle, deep breath. “I really do have a meeting to get to.” He started for the door.

“Wait,” Robert said, grabbing Stannis’ arm. “Just tell me you’re not… tell me you’re not going to treat her like-”

“Like you would?” Stannis said, his voice even colder than before. “You haven’t earned any such reassurances from me, but if you were to bother to _think,_ you might recall that I am nothing like you.” He shook Robert’s arm off and stormed out of his office, his heart pounding and his hands curled into fists.

_Bloody Robert._

***

It was Friday evening, and since Jeyne was out with Mike, Sansa was using the opportunity to hog their shared bathroom to her heart’s content. She’d had a long luxurious bubble bath, slathered body butter onto every inch of her skin, and now she was applying a bright green face mask, humming to herself.

The sound of her phone ringing was a very unpleasant interruption. Especially since a quick glance at the screen told her that it wasn’t Stannis. Still, it had been a while since she had spoken to her mother, so she felt obligated to answer. She put it on speaker so she wouldn’t get the green grunk all over the screen.

“Sansa? Is that you? I’m not calling at a bad time, am I?” Her mother’s voice was higher than usual, and there was a sharp edge of tension to it.

“Not at all,” Sansa said, adjusting her towel turban. “What’s up? How are the wedding preparations coming?”

“Oh, fine. You know how Robb is. He’s not too worried about the details. And Jeyne’s a sweet girl. Even if the Westerlings are a bit - “ Her mother sighed. “But never mind that, it’s been so long since we had a chance to catch up! What’s going on in your life, darling? Is there… anything you’d like to tell me?”

Sansa stared at her phone as she finished dabbing the face mask onto her skin, and carefully closed the jar when she was done. Her mother sounded even more tense than before.

“Well, school is great,” Sansa began, putting the jar away. “I’m just starting to prepare for finals, and Shireen is already preparing like mad for her exams. I don’t think she needs to worry, though. Her final paper for her lit class was _really_ good, and I’m not just saying that because I helped her pick the subject.”

“That’s nice, dear,” her mother said, sounding a lot like she did when she was only being polite. “But isn’t there something _else_ you’d like to tell me?”

Sansa closed her eyes, feeling her stomach sink. Somehow her mother had found out about Stannis. _Who told her?_ She doubted Loras or Renly had. And she _knew_ Jeyne hadn’t. Jeyne would never. But maybe Jeyne had let something slip to Arya? Since they were apparently friends now? _That doesn’t make any sense. Arya would never run straight to Mum and Dad. She’d ask me about it first._

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Maybe if she went about this the right way, her mother would tell her how she found out.

“I’m dating someone,” she said, trying to keep her tone suitably shy. “It’s still really new, but I like him a lot.”

“Who is he?” her mother asked at once.

Sansa took a deep breath and reminded herself that her mother already knew. “It’s Stannis Baratheon.”

Her mother exhaled loudly on the other line. Sansa sat down on the edge of the bathtub, wrapping her thick fuzzy robe more tightly around herself.

“Darling, are you… are you sure?”

“Pretty sure it’s him,” Sansa said, suppressing the wild urge to giggle. “There aren’t a lot of men like Stannis in King’s Landing.”

“Darling, you know what I mean. Are you sure about dating him? He’s so… serious.”

“I can be serious, too,” Sansa said, frowning at her mother’s tone.

“Of course you can,” her mother said placatingly, “but Robert seems to think Stannis is already quite taken with you, and I’d hate to think of you being shut away from society at such a young age. Stannis isn’t much for throwing parties or going out, and you’ve got so much to give to the world.”

“Robert?” Sansa repeated, stunned. _**Robert** told Mother about me and Stannis?_

There was an awkward pause.

“Robert called your father today and said something about Stannis getting involved with someone. Of course I didn’t know it was you until just now,” her mother said in a rush, clearly trying to cover her mistake.

“I see.” Sansa chewed on her lip, wondering whether her father had asked Mother to call. Or whether he had just related the news to her and she had decided to call without his urging. Was he curious about her romantic life at all? He hadn’t shown Joff much interest. Not like her mother had. “I thought you’d be pleased,” Sansa said, and didn’t have to work very hard to make her voice sound hurt. “You were so happy when I told you about Joffrey. Stannis is a Baratheon, too.”

“Yes. Well. How does Shireen feel about all this?” her mother asked.

“She’s fine with it,” Sansa said, examining her nail beds and trying not to think about the implications of everything her mother had said so far. “Do you think Dad will approve?”

“Your father and I both just want you to be happy, you know that.” 

She suppressed a sigh. She had been trying to figure out what her father thought of the situation, hoping that her mother would let something slip. But it sounded like her father had just left it up to her mother to ‘deal with things’. “Yes, I know.” 

They were both quiet for a beat.

“Are you certain you want to pursue this, darling?”

“I told you,” Sansa said softly, still staring at her nails. “I really like Stannis.”

“And you’re sure of his intentions? He’s not just going through some tawdry midlife crisis, is he?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “He’s told me that he’s very serious about our relationship, actually,” she said, feeling a warm glow settle in her chest as she remembered the way he’d sounded when he told her.

There was a loud sigh on her mother’s end of the line. “Well, good. But don’t let him lock you up on that mausoleum he lives in. I don’t care how set in his ways he is, you deserve to be treated to everything the city has to offer. Don’t settle for anything less.”

“ _Mother,_ ” Sansa said, feeling her face warm with embarrassment. “He’s not some villain who’s going to lock me in a tower. He’s already taken me to a restaurant _and_ the theatre.”

Her mother hummed. “I suppose that’s a start.”

“He’s really very sweet when you get to know him,” Sansa said, getting up from the tub’s edge as her butt was going numb. She gently unraveled the towel from her head and picked up a wide-tooth comb. “He even took me dancing after our first date.”

“He did?” Her mother’s voice sounded surprised.

Sansa started carefully detangling her damp hair. “Yes. He’s a pretty shy dancer, but he still stood up with me because he knows I love dancing.”

“Are you sure that was Stannis?” There was an edge of humour to her mother’s tone, now.

Sansa smiled. “Yes, we already covered this.”

“Well… he must really like you, then.”

The comb temporarily forgotten, Sansa played with a lock of hair. “I think he does.” 

“All right, darling.” Her mother’s voice had softened considerably. “I’m glad to hear that you’re happy. Just don’t rush into anything. I often wish your father and I had waited a few years before we started having kids.”

Sansa sat down on the tub again, feeling a little faint. “We’ve gone on two dates,” she said. “We’re not trying to get _pregnant._ ”

“Oh, you say that now,” her mother said knowingly, “but Stannis isn’t getting any younger, and he only has the one daughter.”

“Good-bye Mother, I have to go!” Sansa said, scrambling to her feet and reaching for her phone. It was still lying on the counter by the sink, a single green smudge on the screen.

“Good-bye, dear,” her mother said serenely, just as Sansa swiped at the screen to end the call.

Sansa stared at her green face in the mirror above the sink, her stomach squirming. There was no way she was letting Stannis get her pregnant. She had a whole year to go at school, and in her dreams of the future, she was never a mother before she turned at least twenty-eight. She promised herself then and there that she would be extra vigilant about taking her pill at the same time every day, and that when the time came, she would ask Stannis to use a condom, too. Just to be extra safe.

By the time she washed her face mask off, she was _still_ blushing.


	17. A Bit of Golf

Sansa was unusually quiet as they sat down to a veritable feast of different kinds of take-out in his dining room. (Stannis hadn’t been sure what she’d be in the mood for, so he had ordered a bit of everything.) He had set the table himself, and after a long internal debate, he had decided to seat them side by side on one end of the long table, rather than on opposite ends as would be proper. He wanted to try for a more… intimate atmosphere. But the atmosphere felt tense even though she was right beside him. He watched her carefully, trying to judge whether she was nervous about spending an evening all alone with him.

Perhaps she had changed her mind?

But then, wouldn’t she have worn something more conservative?

Stannis let his eyes linger on the dress she had chosen: black, with sleeves that went to her elbows, a plunging neckline and a tight pencil skirt. Her hair was down as he had asked, and he could tell that she had curled it. It had taken a lot of effort on his part not to drag her straight to his bedroom when she had arrived.

He was sure her curls would look even more enticing strewn across his pillow.

Stannis took a quick gulp of his sparkling water, hastily reminding himself that he was trying to figure out why Sansa was so quiet, and that fantasising about what she’d look like in his bed was not conductive to figuring much of anything out.

“Do you like the spinach rolls?” he eventually asked, wincing internally at the weak conversation starter.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening. “Oh. Yes. Everything is delicious.”

There was a pause.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked. “I - er - I have some Arbor Gold cooling in the refrigerator if you want.”

“Oh, maybe later,” Sansa said, pushing her food around her plate before taking a small bite.

They lapsed into silence again. She seemed to be staring into the middle distance as she ate, chewing mechanically.

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Sansa, is something wrong?”

Again she seemed startled at the sound of his voice. “No, everything is fine.” She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual sincere smile.

“I don’t believe you.”

She dropped her cutlery and stared at him, blinking owlishly. “You don’t believe me?” Her tone was affronted.

“No. I don’t.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times and then she seemed to sag in her seat. “My mother called last night,” she said with a put-upon sigh. “Apparently Robert called my father and said something about us dating. She interrogated me.”

He froze, his stomach sinking. “Do your parents disapprove, then?” he asked, clenching his jaw so tightly that it almost cramped.

“Not really,” Sansa said, shrugging. “She was worried you were having a midlife crisis for a bit, but when I told her we were serious, she started worrying that you’d lock me in a tower and keep me barefoot and pregnant for the rest of my life.”

Hot blood shot up to his face, and he had to look away from Sansa for a moment. His insides were squirming and doing somersaults, and he didn’t quite know why. “I assure you, I don’t intend to lock you up. Or… anything else you mentioned.”

“I know that,” Sansa said, laughing.

The squirming eased up at the sound of her laughter, but he couldn’t relax completely. “What’s bothering you, then?”

She heaved a deep sigh. “I don’t really know. I guess I just kind of wish I could have talked to my father, too. It would be nice to know whether he approved.”

“If it’s of any comfort to you, Robert seems to think it’s his job to act as your father now that you’re south of the neck. He came to my office the other day, determined to defend your honour.”

Sansa leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide. “Really?”

Stannis took a measure sip of his water. “Yes. I sent him on his way, of course. Our relationship is none of his concern.” He decided to leave out the details of what precisely had been said. Sansa didn’t need that sort of ugliness in her life.

She shook her head and picked her cutlery back up. “So I guess that’s it, then. Our families both know.”

He nodded and stuck a piece of spinach in his mouth.

The silence that followed was much more comfortable than the one that had preceded, and when the conversation picked back up, it flowed naturally. They told each other what they had been doing at school and at work, and Sansa told him all about an idea she had recently had for a dissertation, which led to the subject of his old dissertation. Their dissertations lasted them most of the way through dinner, but as they finished the last of their food, the wound up discussing the upcoming summer holiday and their plans.

“You’re really not going anywhere?” Sansa asked.

“I have work,” Stannis said, but the excuse felt a lot thinner than it often had before.

“But what about Shireen?”

“What about her?”

“Doesn’t she want to go somewhere?”

“I haven’t asked her,” Stannis admitted, frowning.

“You should,” Sansa said, “I’m sure she’d love a holiday with you.”

They were sitting a lot closer together than they had at the start of dinner, and the bottle of Arbor Gold was sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. Sansa had a glass in front of her that only contained dregs, and Stannis was halfway through a glass of his own. (Since he was only going to have the one, he was savouring it.)

“Are you going somewhere?” Stannis asked, his mind straying to the idea of Sansa in a bikini.

“Winterfell,” Sansa said at once, effectively chasing the image of the bikini from his head. It was cold in the north even over the summer. “At least for a weekend. I want to see my family, and of course I want to attend my brother’s wedding.” She glanced at him quickly and then drained the last drops of wine from her glass. “Would you like to come? As my date?”

Stannis reached for the bottle and offered it to Sansa. She bit her lip and nodded. He poured her a glass, not paying much attention to the act. “When will it be?”

“The sixteenth of June,” Sansa said. She accepted her glass back from him but didn’t drink.

“I should be free,” Stannis said, already imagining what it would be like to meet Sansa’s whole family all at once. His stomach tightened uncomfortably.

“So you think you’d want to go?” Sansa was watching his face intently, gripping the stem of her wine glass.

“Yes.”

She exhaled audibly and smiled at him.

Stannis wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation. He drank some of his wine for something to do. 

“Stannis?”

He looked up. Sansa was wearing an expression that made him stop breathing for a second.

“Do you want to give me a tour of the house? There’s so many rooms I’ve never seen…” She fluttered her eyelashes and tilted her head to the side.

His mind took him straight to the part where he showed her his bedroom, and he felt his face flush. “If you wish,” he said, doing his best to sound normal.

“I wish.” Sansa nodded decisively, her eyes fixed on his.

The took their glasses with them, but left everything else behind.

“Have you seen the game room?” he asked as they made their way towards the grand staircase.

Sansa’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “ _You_ have a game room?”

He snorted. “Believe me, I don’t spend much time in there.”

“Well, I’d rather see rooms you like, but now you’ve made me curious.”

Stannis led her to the large room on the second floor, hoping that it would be fairly clean inside. He had no idea what the cleaning schedule was like for the rooms that weren’t in daily use. He breathed a sigh of relief when he flipped the lights on. The room had a disused air about it, but it was spotless.

“Is that a billiard table?” Sansa asked, grinning.

“Snooker.”

Sansa hummed. She had placed her glass of wine on the counter of the bar that ran the length of one wall, and was already inspecting the snooker table, peeking underneath the protective cover that kept it from gathering dust.

He placed his glass next to Sansa’s, noting absently that this was where Cressen must put the whiskey bottles people occasionally gave him. (Usually they were gifts from business associates that didn’t know Stannis very well.) There were several unopened bottles on the bar’s shelves. Shaking his head, he looked towards the other end of the room. Sansa had walked away from the snooker table, and was looking at the golf clubs mounted on the wall. “The previous owner was a golfer,” Stannis said, waving at the green carpet that was set up for putting practise.

“I’ve never tried golf,” Sansa said, reaching for one of the clubs. She found a golf ball and placed it on the green carpet. Sansa took careful aim at the cup, but missed completely and the ball rolled toward Stannis.

He bent to pick it up. He had learnt the basics of golf ten years ago, and though he wasn’t much of a player, he thought he could at least teach her to putt.

“Here,” he said, placing the ball down in front of Sansa and moving to stand behind her. The club she had selected wasn’t too bad for this sort of thing, but she was holding it all wrong. He adjusted her grip and held his hands over hers, guiding her.

“It’s all supposed to be in the hips and lower back,” he told her, inching closer until her back was flush against his front. Stannis tried not to be too obvious about inhaling deeply. Her hair smelled _exceptionally_ good tonight. She leaned into him and made a small contented sound that probably shouldn’t have gone straight to his groin the way it did.

“Like this?” She wriggled her hips.

He bit back a groan and tightened his grip on her hands. “Yes,” he managed, not caring much about golf at the moment, but wanting to get through at least one putt without embarrassing himself. “Now try it.”

This time the golf ball rolled straight towards the cup, falling in with a satisfying clatter.

Sansa squealed happily and turned in his arms to kiss him. The golf club fell to the carpet with a dull thunk.

She was warm and soft, and she sighed into his mouth when he gave into the urge to bury his hands in her hair. Her tongue was playful, licking at his lips and curling around his own tongue when he tried to slide it deeper. She turned her head to give him more access, and groped his arms and back eagerly.

How was it possible for each kiss they shared to be better than the last?

“I think I’d like to see your bedroom now,” Sansa whispered, kissing the spot just underneath his ear.

He swallowed, trying to ignore the way his heart had started to beat its way out of his chest. “As you wish.”

Sansa was in completely impractical heels again, and though Stannis had been enjoying the way her hips swayed when she walked in them up until now, he didn’t think he’d be able to stand the slow pace they demanded all the way to the third floor. Perhaps it would have made more sense to order her out of the damn things, but Stannis hadn’t forgotten how it had felt to carry her away from that party all those months ago.

He picked her up, ignoring the disgruntled ache in his lower back. There was so much else to focus on: such as the delighted gasp Sansa made, and the way she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Without a word, he started for his bedroom, walking at a brisk pace. She felt warm in his arms, and there was something deeply satisfying about having her off her feet like this. In a strange, primitive way it felt like he had... _caught_ her.

“I _can_ walk, you know,” Sansa said when they reached the stairs, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I know. This is quicker.”

She gave a breathy little laugh. “Impatient?”

There was no point pretending that he wasn’t. “Yes.”

She blushed, but looked pleased.

There was an awkward moment when he finally made it to his bedroom and set her down. A part of him had been quite ready to stride over to his bed, throw her down, and claim her right there, but he thought that might be going a bit far with the whole caveman scenario.

“This is the master bedroom,” he said to break the silence, flipping the switch that would turn the lamps on, but leave the ceiling light off. Without taking his eyes off her, he gestured vaguely at the furniture and the windows. He hadn’t changed the bedroom very much after he moved in; only painted the walls a darker colour. The furniture was mainly made of mahogany, a mixture of antiques that came with the house and his own slightly more modern purchases. The best part of the room was the ocean view, but as it was dark outside, he couldn’t really point it out to Sansa.

“It’s lovely,” Sansa said, her face still flushed pink from before. She looked at his bed for a moment and then at him. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to go for a four-poster.”

“Came with the house,” he muttered, flexing his fingers.

She approached him, bringing her hand up to the collar of his shirt. “You’re not wearing a tie,” she said, stroking the hollow of his throat.

 _Gods._ “No,” he said, daring to rest his hands on her waist. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He hesitated. Sansa gave him a hopeful look. “And… you said you liked it.” His face suddenly felt much too hot.

“I like it a lot.” She gave his neck a wet, open-mouthed kiss. “I’d like it even more if you took the shirt off, too.”

This was all too good to be true and soon he would mess it all up. It was inevitable. He tried to concentrate. “Would you?”

“Mmhm.” She was tugging at his suit jacket, dragging it off his shoulders.

He didn’t know how to respond. Her interest in getting his clothes off, her interest in _touching him_ was so… blatant. It wasn’t that he expected her to be shy and virginal - he knew she had been involved with others before him - but it was strange for him to think that she might want _him_ this much.

“Let me,” he said, taking his jacket the rest of the way off and watching her carefully the whole time.

Her eyes went from his biceps to his belt, up the row of buttons at the front of his shirt, all the way down to the cuffs and his cufflinks, and then back to the buttons. She started forward, reaching for the buttons with a determined look in her eyes.

A warm, fluttery sensation settled in the pit of his stomach as she started to unbutton his shirt, and his hands shook when he brought them up to card them through her curls. They were disheveled now, since he had been running his hands through her hair as much as he possibly could in the game room, but he liked the disarray.

She kissed him as her fingers worked one button loose and then the next, her hands occasionally straying to touch his chest as she exposed it, making his abdominal muscles clench up reflexively.

Sansa took a step back just to look at him once she got his shirt all the way open. He felt goosebumps rise up, and tried not to shiver.

“Could you take it all the way off, please?” she said sweetly, running her hands up and down his chest, lingering around his navel. He had to bite back a moan when she tugged gently on the hair that grew just below it.

It took an irritating amount of time to get his cuffs loose and the shirt all the way off, but the reward was worth the wait. Sansa kissed his bare shoulders and scratched his arms lightly, making delighted noises as she did.

“You should never wear clothes,” she sighed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He shook his head at her, his insides squirming in a new, strange way.

She smiled and turned around, gathering her hair over one shoulder. “Do my zipper?”

She didn’t seem to expect him to say anything, so he didn’t. He just placed his palms on her waist for a moment to steady himself. Then, with a deep breath, he went for the tab of her zipper. He forced himself to pull it down slowly, not quite able to believe that she was letting him do this. She inhaled her scent again, closing his eyes. She smelled just like she had when he had danced with her that first time. The skin of her back was smooth and porcelain white, soft beneath his fingertips. The zipper stopped right after it revealed the first hint of black lace, riding low on her hips.

The dull pressure beneath his belt became a lot harder to ignore, and as Sansa had her back to him, he palmed himself through his trousers, adjusting things to minimise the discomfort. He let go a second before she turned around, his heart drumming.

“Thank you,” she said, shooting him a small smile. And then she pushed her dress down until it pooled around her impossibly high heels.

A sound that did not resemble any human word Stannis was aware of escaped him. She was _stunning._ He had already known that she was - had already seen her wearing very little - but seeing her in a towel had done nothing to prepare him for the sight of her in lacy lingerie. 

Her breasts were full and tempting, pushed up and together to create the cleavage he had been trying not to stare at all night. Her torso was long, dipping gently at the waist, and her navel was perfectly round. The lace that covered her mound was mostly transparent, and he could see the little triangle of pubic hair as clearly as if she hadn’t bothered with panties at all. He took a shuddering breath, feeling as if he could _hear_ his blood rushing south, leaving his head feeling fuzzy and vague. The only thought left in his head was the thought that he should touch her.

He lurched towards her, hands already outstretched, but Sansa stopped him with a word.

“Wait,” she glanced at his belt. “You’re still wearing too much.”

He immediately started to fumble with his belt buckle, clenching his jaw when it refused to cooperate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sansa step out of her dress and bend down to pick it up. His heart hammering, he redoubled his efforts and finally managed to open his belt and undo his fly. Meanwhile, Sansa had draped her dress over the back of a chair and taken a seat on the edge of his bed, clad in nothing but lingerie and high heels.

He hurriedly took his shoes and socks off, glanced at Sansa to check whether she was looking at him (she was), and then pushed his trousers down. The weight of his belt helped carry them all the way to the floor. He stepped out of them, glancing at Sansa again. She was looking at the front of his boxer briefs, her cheeks pink.

He closed the distance between them, ruthlessly ignoring the impulse to adjust himself again. Touching himself wasn’t what he wanted to do right now. He wanted to touch Sansa.

In the blink of an eye, they were lying on top of his bedspread, feet dangling off the side of the bed. She made a highly encouraging sound when he gave into the urge to touch one of her breasts, and pushed her chest forward, wordlessly asking for more. He opened his mouth to make sure he was interpreting everything correctly, but Sansa kissed him before he got a word out. Before he knew what had happened, he was lying on his back with Sansa on top of him, straddling his thighs. He could feel the heat and the weight of her through the cotton of his boxers, and for a moment his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He kept his eyes closed, knowing that he’d do something inadvisable if he opened them and took in the view. Feeling her squirm around on top of him was wearing his self control thin enough.

“Stannis?”

He kept his eyes closed and started to withdraw his hands from her breasts, holding his breath. Did she want to stop?

“Do you want to unclasp my bra?”

His hips bucked up involuntarily and his eyes flew open. “Do you want me to?”

She bit her lip and nodded, moving her hips in a very familiar way, grinding herself against his erection.

His palms felt sweaty and horribly clumsy, but he managed to undo the the clasp on his third attempt. The lace fell away. Her breasts were _right there._ He could see her nipples. They were pink.

_Fuck._

Without a word, he brought his hands up to fill his palms, letting his thumbs settle over her nipples. He closed his eyes and tried to memorise everything about the sensation. When he moved his thumbs, he felt her nipples hardening, and he had to open his eyes to watch his thumbs move back and forth, his other fingers digging a little into her soft flesh.

Sansa ground herself harder against him, moaning.

Surreal as it was that she wanted him groping her like this, it was beyond obvious that she did.

_She likes this._

Something primal surged within him, and he found himself rolling them over, his instincts crying out for leverage. Once he had her pinned beneath him, he lowered his head to her chest, tasting her nipples. They tasted like clean skin, but the concept of her naked breasts under his lips had him salivating as if they tasted like fresh, cool strawberries on a hot day.

He felt her clutching the back of his head and heard her moan his name. His hips responded, and after that he couldn’t stop grinding himself against her thigh.

“Stannis, please,” she whined after what might have been a minute or half an hour. Time didn’t seem to be flowing the same way it usually did. She was wriggling beneath him, and tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

In a rush, he got up and discarded them, feeling a burst of heat in his chest when he heard Sansa’s sharp intake of breath. He didn’t really get a chance to dwell on her reaction, however. He was too busy helping her out of her panties and her heels, and then the sight of her, completely naked in front of him, robbed him of all coherent thought.

“Gods above,” he heard himself rasp. “Sansa…”

She ducked her head, but he could see that she was smiling.

Before he had a chance to gather his wits, she dropped to her knees in front of him, grasping him by the hilt. Her lips touched the head of his cock.

Stannis heard a strangled sound, and his vision went very blurry for a second.

She started swirling her tongue as if she were having him for dessert, and Stannis realised that this was it: this was how he would die.

“Sansa,” he croaked, “are you sure… ?” He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to bury them in her hair, but he wasn’t sure that was permissible in this situation.

Sansa pulled her mouth away, but kept stroking his length with one hand. “I want to do this for you,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes hooded.

Unable to speak, he just nodded.

She put her mouth back on him. This time she took him a little further in and sucked on the tip.

An embarrassing grunt escaped him, and his knees buckled for a second. He managed to keep himself upright by clutching one of the four posts around his bed, and his other hand went to the back of her head. The sensation of her hair sliding between his fingers grounded him, providing a tiny distraction from all the friction and wet heat.

But then her mouth was gone for a second. Panic filling his head, he looked down. She met his eyes, looking for all the world like she was genuinely happy. More than happy - _excited._ Unless her eyes were only shining like that because of the wine.

_She didn’t drink that much._

She licked the underside of his cock, all the way from the base to the tip. Slowly.

“ _Fuck._ ”

She smiled - obviously pleased with herself - and wrapped her lips around the tip again, her fingers going around the base. She stayed completely still until he met her eyes, and only then did she start to move. She stroked him with her hand, keeping a firm hold on him, and kept the head of his cock snug inside her mouth, licking and sucking lightly.

Stannis was sure his brain would liquidise at any second. Or maybe his spine. This was so much _more_ than what she’d done in the car.

Just as the thought left him, Sansa moved more of his cock into her mouth, bobbing her head.

He grunted loudly - embarrassingly - his knees now threatening to liquidise, too.

Sansa made a small, spine-tingling noise of her own and bobbed her head again. At first there seemed to be no particular rhythm to her movements, but soon she had built a steady pace that had him clenching every muscle in his body to keep himself still and silent. He did not really succeed when it came to staying silent. No matter how much he tried, the obnoxious grunting noises kept happening. Thankfully, he was more successful keeping still. He may not have done this before, but he was certain that it would not be pleasant for her if he tightened his hold on her head and thrust himself into her mouth with wild abandon like a bad part of his brain was suggesting.

When she quickened her pace, Stannis had to close his eyes. Looking at her curls tangled around his fingers, her lips enveloping his cock, her eyes periodically glancing up at him, was just… too much. The feel of her tongue, her firm grip of her hand, _the suction_ was sensory overload all on its own.

Closing his eyes didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. The heat of her mouth just became even more intense, and his hips started to twitch involuntarily. The need to thrust was screaming at him, the muscles of his buttocks and thighs coiled with tension. Something else, something much more familiar, was coiling at the base of his spine. His balls felt heavy and tight, and his toes curled.

“Sansa -” he groaned, knowing that he had to warn her, “I’m -”

He didn’t manage to finish the sentence. An orgasm tore through him with the force of an freight train, and a raw noise wrenched itself free from his throat. He thrust his hips once, twice, _three times,_ release and pleasure and heat blinding him. He felt like he was still coming. Was he still coming?

Blearily, he looked down.

Clear blue eyes met his, though he could barely see the colour of her irises. Her pupils were blown wide. She still had him in her mouth. He could feel her hand stroking him gently, her tongue making lazy circles around the head.

Blood rushed to his face as he realised she must have swallowed. Like she had in the car.

He released his deathgrip on the back of her hair and took a step back. He helped her to her feet.

“That was…” His voice was too hoarse. He cleared his throat.

Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing the length of her body flush against his. She kissed him, and he could taste himself on her tongue. His stomach did a somersault.

“Good?” she asked, smiling sweetly at him.

He nodded, numb with pleasure.

Her smile widened. “It sounded like you liked it.” She was blushing, but her eyes were full of light.

His face grew even hotter as he recalled the noises he had been making.

Sansa kissed him again. “It turned me on,” she whispered. She took a step back, and Stannis could see that she was biting her lip and searching his face for his reaction.

Whatever she saw must have encouraged her. She turned to face the bed, dragging the bedspread off and getting in. He followed her instinctively, lying down beside her.

Stannis settled into a comfortable position and looked at Sansa, his brain still not quite functioning the way it usually did. Everything was blurry around the edges, and his thoughts were slow and vague. Sansa was looking expectantly back at him, but he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

All he knew was that he wanted to make her feel as good as she had just made him feel.

His heart in his throat, he inched closer and took a deep breath. “What would you like me to do about that?”


	18. Exploring

“Touch me?” Sansa asked, her eyes dark.

Stannis rose up on one elbow, his free hand reaching for her, steadier now that he wasn’t trembling with unresolved tension. He felt languid, his limbs a little heavy. If Sansa weren’t naked beside him, begging to be touched, responding to his fingers with deeply arousing quivers and sighs, he might have been tempted to go to sleep. As it was, he could feel lust unfurling and spreading through his veins again.

He touched her cheek, stroking it from right where her cheekbone provided some resistance beneath her soft skin, and down towards her lips. She closed her eyes and tried to catch his fingers with a kiss. He let her, but quickly moved to her hair to avoid getting too distracted.

“Why do you like it when I leave my hair down?” Sansa asked, angling her head to give him as much access to her hair and her scalp as possible.

He carded his fingers through the length of it, and letting his nails rake lightly over the back of her head every now and then. He tried to think of something to say in response to her question that wouldn’t make him sound foolish, but couldn’t come up with anything. “Because it is beautiful,” he murmured, half hoping that she wouldn’t hear.

But she did hear. And she did not seem to think his answer was foolish. Not if he were to go by her smile and her sudden decision to kiss him thoroughly.

When she pulled back, her eyes were even darker than before. Without a word, she guided his hand to her chest and bit her lip.

He swallowed and let himself linger on her breasts. He played with her nipples, keeping his touches gentle since she had winced when he had tried pinching one between his thumb and forefinger. She made mewling noises when he dragged his thumb over each one in turn, back and forth, back and forth, practically hypnotising himself.

“Please,” she whimpered after a while, lifting her hips up and squirming.

He took the hint, shaking his head quickly to clear it, and moved his hand lower, letting it drift over her abdomen. She jumped and giggled, but settled down when he ranged lower. Soon his fingertips were exploring the front of her thighs.

She parted them almost at once, and his breath hitched in his throat at the trust she was showing him. Hardly daring to breathe, he started to stroke the infinitely soft skin of her inner thighs.

“ _Please -_ ” She sounded desperate, and Stannis’ heart began to race when she widened the gap between her thighs even further.

“Do you want me to -” he paused, not sure how to phrase this. “Return the favour?” He held his breath, watching her intently for her reaction. It made sense for her to expect him to do what she had done for him, didn’t it?

She blinked at him. “Do you like doing that?” Her cheeks were very pink.

He swallowed. “I’m not entirely certain. I’ve never tried it. My ex-wife… she believed oral sex was sinful.” He grimaced, not entirely certain he’d done the right thing, bringing Selyse up.

“Oh.” Sansa was blinking even more rapidly. “Was - did I - was I your first?”

He nodded, looking at her ear rather than at her eyes.

She kissed him. “I don’t know what to say.” She kissed him again, more deeply.

For a while they did nothing but kiss and press their bodies close, sharing body heat.

“I’ve never had anyone go down on me,” she eventually whispered, her tone shy. “I’d like to try it at some point, but I think… for right now…” Her voice trailed off into a bit of a whimper. “Please, just use your hand.”

His heart stuttered and his stomach seemed to lighten with relief and squirm with disappointment at once, but he decided not to argue. He nodded, and carefully brought his hand to her mound, cupping her so that his fingertips grazed her folds. The neat triangle of pubic hair tickled his palm, but he barely noticed. Her folds were _drenched._

“Stannis…” she sighed, chasing his fingers with her body, rubbing herself on them.

He knew what to look for. The part of him that was already hardening again wanted to explore her cunt: plunge a finger inside to feel how tight she was. How hot. But he ignored that part of himself. Despite his inexperience with oral sex, he was not a _novice._ He knew that he most likely needed to focus his attentions elsewhere to bring her pleasure. He just needed to find out where she preferred a direct sort of approach, or whether she was too sensitive for that.

After feeling around for a bit, he found the right place, pulled the hood back, and pressed his finger down lightly. 

She gasped, her entire body jerking as if he’d electrocuted her.

_Sensitive._

He used the tips of three fingers after that, circling around and around, keeping his touch firm but gentle, and trying to stick to the same rhythm. He slipped once or twice because she was really very quite wet, but it didn’t seem like she minded.

She was writhing beneath his hand within minutes.

The look of pleasure and concentration on her face was unlike any expression he had ever seen her wear, and he couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her. She kissed him back eagerly, moaning into his mouth and using her tongue more aggressively than ever before. He felt a small hand cover his, pressing his fingers more firmly against her and holding him still. She moved her hips, rubbing herself against his fingers - or his whole palm now, really - moaning more loudly.

Their kiss broke when she started to gasp, her whole body twitching. “Can you? Inside? Please?” she panted, tugging on him in a way that made it obvious that she wanted him to get on top of her.

He had already been nearly fully erect, but her pleading and tugging - not to mention the mere _idea_ of actually being inside of her - had him at full mast in seconds.

Sansa lifted her knees, making room for him, and Stannis was faced with a view he knew he’d never forget. Sansa’s hair spilled all over his pillow; a riot of curls and russet waves. Her face was flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded, and her lips were parted. Her neck and her chest looked flushed too, and she was breathing deeply and heavily.

He groaned and pressed his cock to her folds, trying to find the right place.

Sansa froze. “Wait. We should use a condom.”

“You’re not on anything?” he asked, tensing.

“Of course I am. But I just want to be safe.”

He forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly through his nose. _Condoms. Where did I put them?_ It had seemed presumptuous to stock up, but at the same time, it had seemed irresponsible _not_ to stock up. He’d spent ten minutes at the chemist’s arguing the matter back and forth in his head. He was very glad that responsibility had won out in the end. _The nightstand. I put them in the nightstand._

He rolled off Sansa and opened the top drawer. There was an unopened box, still in the plastic. Stannis grabbed it, and even though he’d only purchased the thing a few days ago, he checked the best before date, just to make sure. Once he was certain the condoms were within date, he tore the plastic film off the box and fished a foil packet out.

“Can I help put it on?” Sansa asked. She was sitting up and watching him with avid interest.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

It took him a moment to get the condom out of its wrapper, and then he had to figure out which way it went on, but as soon as that was done, Sansa was eager to roll it on for him. It was a snug fit, and the sensation of the tight rubber ring moving down in combination with Sansa’s fingers pressing against him forced him to take a few deep breaths.

“Slippery thing,” Sansa said under her breath, as she struggled to convince the condom to stay put at the base.

“That’s as far as it goes,” he said, stilling her hand.

He didn’t need to say anything else. Sansa was already lying down, tugging him with her.

It took him less time to get into position this time, the tight rubber ring around the base of his cock adding a sense of throbbing urgency to the proceedings. “Ready?” he asked, forcing himself not to push in yet.

She kissed him, and the warmth of her mouth settled him down. A syrupy wave of fresh lust moved through him, and he felt her hand on the small of his back, rubbing a soothing circle.

He sank in slowly, feeling her yield and stretch, welcoming him.

She moaned.

Sweat sprang up all over his body as he fought the urge to start thrusting, wanting to savour the first plunge.

“How does it feel?” she asked, her eyes barely open, her voice a breathy whisper. Stannis wished he could tell whether she was deliberately clenching the muscles inside, or whether she was really _this_ tight.

He tried to tell her that it was good, but the sound that came out of him was more of a grunt than anything else. “Good,” he managed on his second attempt. And now she was definitely clenching. “ _Fuck._ ”

She moved her hips in a way that made it impossible for him not to move his own hips in answer. And once that first movement had happened, he couldn’t stop. It was too good. The heat of her surged around him, the tightness of her cunt and the rubber circle at the base of his cock working together to drive him mad.

No. The sounds she was making were driving him mad. Gasps and moans and little ‘oh’s every time he snapped his hips forward, like she was enjoying everything he did. Like she wasn’t just tolerating this for the sake it. Something loosened in his chest. Something that had been tightly wound for so long that he hadn’t realised it _could_ be loose.

“Gods, _yes,_ ” Sansa moaned, clutching at his back and meeting his thrusts with little movements of her own. “ _Stannis!_ ”

What little control he’d had left slipped out of his grasp. He got more fully on his knees and pulled her legs up to rest her calves on his chest, wrapping his hands around her ankles. He could get in deeper this way, and he knew he’d have the leverage to go as hard and as fast as he needed to.

“Oh,” Sansa said, her eyes flying open to stare up at him, her lips still forming a perfect circle.

“Okay?”

She nodded frantically, and again he could feel her inner muscles clamping down. It almost knocked the air out of him, but he managed to keep control of himself by clenching his buttocks and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

After a second of perfect stillness, he let go. He took all the breaks off, letting his body do what it wanted. His spine already felt half-melted, but he could still feel the coiling sensation start to build at the base of it. The sounds of their bodies meeting with every hard thrust were obscene, but a part of him rather enjoyed them. There was something satisfying about the _smacking._

“Don’t stop,” Sansa whined, her hands tangled in the sheets on either side of her. “It’s so good...”

He groaned, feeling his balls tighten up for the second time in less than an hour. He squeezed her ankles, thrusting even harder and faster than before, panting with the effort of it. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and then he was gasping her name, and his hips were jerking forward erratically, every muscle in his body spasming. For a second everything went black.

He fell forward, letting her legs drop to either side of him, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair and clean sweat and _sex._

An hour later - or more likely a few seconds later - he was still twitching.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, he was finally understanding what people meant went they spoke of the ‘little death’.

His legs felt like unbaked dough when he got up to dispose of the condom, and he didn’t care that he probably looked completely undignified when he collapsed back into bed. All he cared about was holding and kissing Sansa for as long as she would let him, or until they both fell asleep.

“So, was it good for you?” Sansa asked teasingly when he’d kissed them both breathless.

“Yes,” he said, meeting her eyes to make sure she knew he meant it. “Better than good.” He wished he could think of words that were strong enough to describe exactly how good. But nothing he came up with seemed right.

She smiled and hid her face with her hands. “Really?” She was peeking at him through the gaps between her fingers.

“Yes.” A worrying thought struck him. “How about you? Was it - at the end, was I too rough?”

She put her hands away and let him see her expression transform into a perfect impression of the cat who got the cream. “It was _amazing,_ ” she purred. “I think I almost came just from what you were doing. That’s never happened before.”

He frowned. “Almost?”

“Don’t worry. We can try again later.” She kissed him.

All thoughts of sleep fled his mind. “Isn’t there something I can do now?” He didn’t like the idea of taking her to the edge and then disappointing her. It didn’t seem remotely fair. Not after everything she’d done for him.

She gave a tiny shrug and bit her lip. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He paused. “Let me try going down on you.”

Sansa blushed crimson. “You could just use your hand again,” she whispered. “You really don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he repeated, thought the idea was making new beads of sweat spring up all over his body. Would he be able to make her come? Or would he just embarrass himself?

“Um, okay.” She was still completely red in the face, her expression hesitant as she looked around. “How should I…?”

Stannis thought about it. “Come sit on the edge of the bed,” he said. He’d kneel on the floor, and she’d be able to put her thighs over his shoulders. That ought to be comfortable.

He was wrong. The floor was _hard._ But Sansa had knelt on it without complaint earlier, so Stannis didn’t feel as if he could say anything. The weight of her thighs over his shoulders felt good, however.

He took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down, and let himself _look._

She was very pink; almost red. She was wet, too. (Though not as wet as she would no doubt look if he hadn’t worn a condom.) And parts of her looked swollen. Not in a bad way, he didn’t think, but it looked strange. He inhaled, letting the musky scent of her overwhelm his senses, closing his eyes for a moment to focus completely on the smell. He liked it. Something deep within him responded to it in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as if the scent was pulling him closer… beckoning him.

More than a little jittery, he placed his hands high up on the outsides of her thighs, gripping her firmly to anchor himself.

“ _Stannis,_ ” she said, her voice low and full of desire.

He let his instincts take over, and tasted her. The taste was similar to her scent, but sharper. Sansa’s thighs trembled in response to his tongue, which made his stomach leap and his fingers dig into her soft flesh. Did the trembling mean that he was doing it right?

Doing his best to remain calm, he experimented with moving his tongue in different ways. Sansa had seemed to _swirl_ her tongue around the head of his cock when she had done this for him… would she like that?

“Gods, please don’t stop!”

Stannis stopped feeling the pain in his knees. A rush of excitement crackled through his veins, and he did his best to keep swirling his tongue in exactly the same way, moving from her opening and up towards her clit.

It was tempting to bury his nose in the neat triangle of hair on her mound, but he didn’t let himself do it for very long at a time. He needed to breathe through his nose, after all.

Sansa’s thighs were no longer trembling. They had tensed up, and were currently hugging his head rather intimately. It felt both suffocating and strangely comforting. He didn’t try to use his grip on her to discourage her.

“Please, please, please…” Sansa’s voice sounded very far away due to the way her thighs were flush against his ears, but hearing her plead for more egged him on. He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do, however. More of the same? Or did she want him to do something different?

Curious, he decided to try to push his tongue inside her. The taste of her was even sharper in there, and Sansa _moaned,_ sending shivers all down his spine. Feeling his face warm up with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, he started to thrust his tongue in and out, moving his head back and forth as much as he could.

“Stannis, please, I need -” She was squirming, and almost too breathless for him to hear her properly.

Feeling relatively certain that he knew what she was asking for, he moved his mouth up and started to swirl his tongue again, focusing all his attention on the area around her clitoris.

Sansa was moaning and gasping, but the only coherent word he could decipher was, “more!”

He tried to lick faster, but his tongue was starting to protest all this movement. _Can tongues get cramps?_ He felt too hot, but his heart was racing with excitement, and he desperately wanted to get Sansa to come. Remembering how good it had felt when she had sucked on the head of his cock, he made a decision.

Sansa screamed.

An explosion of triumph began in his chest and raced through his entire body, making his toes and his fingers tingle. (Or perhaps that was due to the lack of oxygen.) Sansa’s thighs were clenched around his head, keeping him firmly in place. He squeezed them, digging his fingers in again.

She trembled and the tension left her. Stannis could feel the way her body relaxed all at once, slumping on the bed. Her thighs became dead weights on his shoulders, heavier than before.

Moving slowly, Stannis untangled himself and helped Sansa lie down properly on the bed, getting in beside her. She cuddled up to him at once, making little noises that could only be described as happy, peppering his face and neck with kisses. His stomach leapt every time she made a new noise.

“Are you sure that was your first time doing that?” Sansa asked after they had burrowed beneath the blankets, her voice hoarse.

“Yes.”

“I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I think you did it right.” She made another happy little noise.

They were silent for a long moment, and Stannis felt his eyelids growing heavier and his heart slow down.

“Stannis?”

“Mm?”

“Did it… did I taste bad?” Her voice was small.

He turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were wide and worried, but her expression didn’t tell him what he was supposed to say.

“It was different from anything I’ve tasted before,” he began, watching for her reaction. She still looked worried. “But not unpleasant.”

She bit her lip. “Really?”

He nodded, wondering what had prompted her to ask. Was it because _he_ tasted unpleasant? His stomach plummeted. “Are you asking because you would prefer not to taste… “ He paused, trying to think of a suitable turn of phrase. “... me?”

“What?” Sansa blinked furiously, her mouth opening and closing a few times. “No! Not at all, that’s not - I didn’t mean -” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I just thought that most men didn’t like the way girls taste down there.”

The tension in his body drained away for the most part, but he couldn’t help but frown. “I can’t speak for all men. I can only speak for myself.”

“I know.” Sansa smiled at him. “Forget I asked,” she added, closing the small gap between them and kissing him squarely on the mouth.

He deepened the kiss, wondering whether she’d be able to taste herself on his tongue. Judging by the way she moaned and pressed herself close, the taste of his tongue was completely acceptable to her.

The last thing Stannis remembered doing before drifting off to sleep was kissing a purple mark on Sansa’s neck, and wondering whether she’d let him make more.


	19. Morning

Sansa was no stranger to getting up early, but she usually liked to lie in on weekends. Today she got up with the sun, however, even though it was Sunday. 

It wasn’t on purpose.

She wasn’t sure what precisely woke her up, but she supposed it was a few different things. The sun was the most obvious culprit. She and Stannis had clearly fallen asleep without drawing the curtains shut. Sansa usually always had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar beds though, so that might be a contributing factor. And of course, there was the matter of Stannis. She was definitely not used to waking up with him. 

He was incredibly warm, and though he was built more like a brick wall than a teddy bear, it was surprisingly comfortable to be his little spoon. She liked the way he had one arm around her, holding her protectively.

Right as she thought of his arm, she felt his hold on her tighten. She smiled, her chest filling with an airy, bubbly sort of joy. At the same time, her blood started to run a little hotter. There was a lot of naked Stannis pressed against her, after all. And a certain part of him was poking her, seemingly just as eager as it had been last night.

Sansa exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down. _Last night…_

Last night had been successful beyond her wildest expectations. She had hoped they might _do things_ , but she had thought that it would take a lot more effort to convince Stannis that she wanted him. He was so skittish about being touched.

Stannis moved in his sleep, pressing himself closer. _Not skittish now._

Should she wake him? She squirmed, considering it. She was a little sore between her legs, though not in a painful way. It was just a very physical reminder of what they’d done.

Sansa closed her eyes and let herself relive the last moments of Stannis on top of her, thrusting deep and hard and brushing something inside of her that had made her want him to keep going forever. She felt a buried part of her throb pleasantly at the memory, and had to fight the urge to squirm some more.

Her memories kept flooding forth, and she felt her face flush as she recalled the way he had insisted on going down on her.

Gods, but it had been strange. She had meant to save it for later… for when she had been able to prepare herself a bit more. She had a lot of mixed feelings about oral sex. Well, not all oral sex. She was pretty used to the idea of going down on a guy, and she had done that often enough. But a man going down on a woman? Nearly everything she had ever heard about it had been from Joff, and he’d always made it sound so… dirty. Disgusting. Like it was nothing any respectable man would ever do, and nothing a respectable woman should want.

 _Joff was wrong,_ she told herself firmly. _He was wrong about a lot of things._

Having Stannis do it to her had felt… good. She felt her cheeks get even hotter. _Really good._ And Stannis had said that she tasted just fine. He hadn’t seemed disgusted. 

He had definitely not seemed the least bit disgusted by her going down on _him._

More heat flooded her body as she thought about it. It had been different in the car. That had mostly just been a handjob. But she had noticed how he had reacted to her mouth, and last night… last night she had been able to explore more of that reaction.

The _sounds_ he had made.

It had sounded as if he’d never experienced so much pleasure all at once, and _she_ had been the reason. _She_ had given him that. She had given him something no one else had ever given him.

She squirmed, wishing that she could somehow move the hard length that was currently wedged in an awkward place downwards. She wanted it between her legs. She wanted to rub up against it.

How had he gone his entire life without ever receiving a single blowjob? He had said that Selyse thought oral sex was sinful, but had there really never been anyone but his wife? A woman that even Shireen - who could usually find something kind to say about everyone in the world - described as ‘cold’? Had he really never been with the sort of woman who would show him affection?

Sansa knew what it was like to be starved for affection and intimacy in a relationship. If it were up to her, no one would ever have to feel that way. But since she couldn’t control the whole world, she would just have to focus on Stannis. She’d give him as much affection as she possibly could.

She smiled to herself. _Not exactly a hardship._

But speaking of hardships...

She couldn’t take it anymore. She reached behind herself and pushed his cock down until she had it between her thighs, rubbing and sliding against her folds as she writhed. Each time it brushed her clit she had to muffle a whimper of pleasure. Soon she had clamped her thighs around it tightly, keeping it in place, grinding shamelessly and moaning, having completely forgotten that Stannis was asleep.

“Sansa?” Stannis’ arm tightened further around her middle, forcing her to still her movements.

For a second she froze, feeling convinced he would tell her off. The silly fear faded quickly, however. Stannis wanted her and she wanted him. There was nothing to worry about.

“I need you,” she moaned, trying to wriggle despite the iron band his arm had turned into.

He groaned, nuzzling her neck.

“Please.” She didn’t care how. She just needed him inside.

She felt him move his hand to her thigh, encouraging her to lift it up. She did as he seemed to want, though she didn’t quite know what he intended to -

_Oh._

His cock slipped in fairly easily, though the angle was a little strange at first. They were still lying on their sides, spooning, and Sansa hadn’t realised it was possible to do it like this. She hadn’t realised it was possible to be this _comfortable_ while doing this.

Stannis brought his hand back up to hold her around the middle again, anchoring her in place, and started to rock against her, setting sparks of pleasure off with each movement. It wasn’t the intense pleasure she had felt when he had been practically pounding her into the mattress last night, but it was still incredibly nice.

He was breathing loudly against her neck, picking up the pace a little.

The faster pace didn’t help her get any closer to feeling the way she had last night. He didn’t seem to be brushing up against that place inside of her the right way. It still felt very nice, especially when he started kissing and sucking on her neck. The closeness was the best part about this position, she decided. The way he was holding her. The way his chest was flush against her back.

“Is it good for you?” he asked, speaking right into her ear in a strained, hoarse whisper.

“Yes,” she said, feeling her inner muscles clench pleasantly. She liked that he asked.

“Are you sure? You’re more quiet than you were last night.” Stannis’ voice was still low, but laced with concern.

“It’s good, but a different kind of good,” Sansa tried to explain.

Without a word, he reached over and between her thighs, pressing down lightly.

She loved the way his fingers felt. Bigger and a little rougher than her own, and much less predictable. When she touched herself there were never any surprises, and she would always let go when it all got to be too much.

For a while she let herself float on a pink cloud of pleasure, enjoying the jolts his fingers sent through her along with the delicious stimulation of being filled and stretched as he rocked into her, never pulling out very far. Heat built inside of her, warming her chest, her cheeks, her limbs, until she was burning with it. Until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I think I’m -” she moaned, squirming against his hand and trying to push herself over the edge. She needed just a little more. Except she wasn’t entirely sure more _what_.

Stannis pressed his entire hand firmly against her and started thrusting a little harder, a little quicker, his breath hot on her neck, his arm pressing down to hold her in place.

It was enough. Something white-hot shuddered through her, waves and spasms that felt so, so, _so,_ so good. But it was gone almost as soon as she managed to grab a hold of it, and left her moaning desperately for more.

Stannis stilled. Sansa was about to protest since that was _not_ what she had just been begging him to do, but then he pushed her so that she was lying flat on her stomach with him covering her like a blanket. She turned her head to the side so she wouldn’t suffocate on the pillow, trying to get used to feeling of this new position. It was another one she hadn’t tried, although she supposed it was similar to doing it on all fours. They just weren’t up on their knees. He started to move again, and instinctively she kept her thighs squeezed shut, increasing the friction when he moved in and out of her.

“Is this all right?” he asked, keeping a steady pace.

It was good. But still not as explosive as it had been last night. She really liked feeling his weight on her, however. She felt completely safe. “Yes,” she said, a small whimper following the word. She was still all tingly from her orgasm, but it hadn’t been nearly enough.

She felt showers of sparks travel up and down her spine when he picked up the pace, and she imagined it would be easy to lie like this for the rest of the morning, enjoying the slippery friction, the comfort, the safety, and the delicious climb back to the peak.

Soon she could hear Stannis’ breathing turn ragged. He stilled again.

“Are you close?” she asked, and excitement raced through her at the thought. She wasn’t quite back to the edge herself - though at this point it was getting hard for her to tell - but she _really_ liked the idea of hearing him come.

“I - yes. Would you mind lifting your hips up?” He spoke quickly, sounding embarrassed.

The excitement she had felt before paled in comparison to the jolt that traveled through her now. From behind had always seemed like a very cold, impersonal position to her, but everything she had done with Stannis this morning had felt good so far, and technically it had all been from behind. She trusted him. And she was aching for him to go harder.

He slipped out while they adjusted their positions. Sansa tried to move slowly so that there would be no awkward sounds. Stannis did not seem to possess the same amount of patience. He was thrusting back inside the second she was on her knees and elbows, groaning as he filled her.

 _There!_ She clenched up as he brushed by the spot he had found last night, pleasure washing over her. “Don’t stop,” she moaned into her pillow.

He didn’t.

His fingers were digging into her hips, and he was making the same entirely arousing sounds he had made last night each time he sank into her. Most importantly, he was moving fast and hard, giving her exactly what her body was crying out for.

She was only half aware of the things she was saying, she was concentrating so hard on holding onto the hot, tingly feeling that was building, pulsing, deep within her.

“Good?” Stannis panted, not stopping.

“Yes, more,” she said, feeling like she was close to something _wonderful._

The broken groan Stannis made in response to her words made her clench up tightly, but then she was digging her hands into the covers and pillows on either side of her, trying to hold on. He was driving into her with enough force to cause the four-poster to quake with it, and the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“Sansa -” he panted.

She didn’t listen. She had squeezed her eyes shut and focused all her energy on the tension at her centre. She was almost… almost…

Stannis gave a final burst of speed, hammering into her so fast that it overwhelmed her senses completely. A torrent of pleasure rushed through her body, starting at her core and rippling outwards to her limbs. It felt like a release, but it also felt like a climb. The sensation promised to just keep going and going, for as long as she could stand it. Her abdominal muscles clenched up involuntarily, and Sansa could feel the muscles inside of her clamping down, too.

She almost forgot to breathe.

When the rushing sound faded from her ears, she heard Stannis’ voice. He was groaning her name, his hips still moving. His pace was slow, however, and he didn’t feel quite as hard inside of her. Her body felt buttery all over, and she wondered whether it was actually glowing, or if it just felt that way.

They came apart, collapsing onto the bed side by side. Something warm and wet started to trickle out of her immediately.

 _We forgot a condom,_ she realised, her stomach wobbling.

They didn’t say anything for a little while, but Sansa told herself that it was okay to occasionally forget the condom. She was on the pill, after all. It was very unlikely that she would get pregnant. She wriggled, feeling more of the mess seep out with a grimace. _But condoms are a lot neater._

“Good morning,” Stannis said, turning her more completely into jelly. The hoarse morning voice did him a _lot_ of favours.

“Good morning.” She turned to lie on her side so that she could look at him. His eyes were closed, and his expression was perfectly relaxed. “That was amazing,” she added, feeling herself blush.

He tensed and his eyes opened. He looked at her closely, and Sansa could tell exactly when he relaxed. (It was all in the jaw.) “I thought I might have to apologise,” he said, his face reddening.

She furrowed her brow. “For what?”

“I can’t seem to control myself properly when I’m - when we’re in the middle of things.”

She smiled. “I like that.” She kissed him, wanting him to know she meant it. The small movement made more wet, sticky stuff trickle out of her. “But now I have to clean up a bit,” she said.

Stannis looked stricken. “I forgot to put a condom on.”

“We both forgot. It’s all right.” She was sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking. Should she just walk over to the en suite in the nude? Or should she put something on? She eyed Stannis’ shirt where it was lying on the floor.

“I’m not in the habit of forgetting important details,” Stannis began, sounding irritated. “I’m usually much more -” He stopped talking, inhaling sharply.

Sansa glanced at him from where she was still sitting on the edge of the bed. “What?”

“Shireen,” he said, looking pale. “She was supposed to return here last night after her evening with the Seaworths.”

“Oh.” Sansa had thought that Stannis had arranged for Shireen to sleep over. “Um, why don’t you call her while I freshen up? I’m sure she’s all right.”

It took Sansa a bit of time to make herself look even vaguely presentable, and though she tried, she couldn’t make out what Stannis was saying on the other side of the door while she worked. All she heard was the sound of his voice. It didn’t sound as if he were having a heated argument, but he did get a little louder at one point.

When she emerged - wearing his shirt and nothing else - he was sitting on the bed, staring at his phone. He had put a robe on: a plain black one. It looked like it might be made of cotton. It looked nice on him, but it was strange to see him wear something like that. _A good kind of strange_ , she decided. _Intimate._ She smiled to herself, her heart fluttering.

“So?” She sat down beside him.

“She tried calling the house last night, and when no one answered the phone, Davos asked her to stay the night at his house.” Stannis’ face was tinged red. “She asked me whether it was ‘safe’ for her to return.”

Sansa’s insides squirmed. Shireen probably knew exactly what she and Stannis had done last night. “Is she mad?”

Stannis shook his head. “I believe the word ‘gross’ was thrown around, but she didn’t sound angry. Resigned, perhaps.” He paused, a puzzled look crossing his face. “Possibly amused.”

Her insides squirmed some more, though breathing became a little easier. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know. But I’m still sorry that this is difficult.” She bit her lip, wondering if he’d welcome a hug.

Stannis was still staring at his phone. “This is hardly the most difficult situation of my life, Sansa. It is a little complicated, that’s all.” The tension in his body belied his words.

She hugged him. He didn’t respond right away, but when she nudged his arm to get him to put it around her, he complied. She pressed herself close, kissing his neck and stroking his back. Slowly, the tension drained out of him, and soon they were lying down, touching each other and kissing languidly.

“How I am ever supposed to keep my hands off you?” she asked after a while, having managed to get his robe open so that she could explore his chest with her fingers. She didn’t miss the way his breath hitched at the question. “You’re so sexy,” she added, forcing herself to just be blunt even though it made her blush. _He needs to hear it._

“Don’t be absurd,” Stannis muttered.

Sansa had thrown a leg over him a while ago, and with her thigh over his groin, she could feel his cock stir. Obviously - despite his muttering - he liked what she’d said. “I’m not being absurd,” she said, determined now. “I thought you were sexy the first time I met you.” She moved her thigh, rubbing it against his rapidly hardening length. “You were so…” she paused, trying to think of the right words. “So in control.”

“You - you thought so?” He sounded strained, but there was also a hint of something vulnerable in his tone that made Sansa want to keep talking forever.

“Mmhm,” she hummed, still stroking his chest lazily and rubbing him with her thigh. “You’re so smart,” she went on, closing her eyes and remembering the many times Stannis had looked at her with the full force of his intellect, his eyes boring into her as if he could read her mind. “So intense…” She kissed his neck. “But even when you were grilling me when we first met, I could see that you weren’t just trying to be intimidating for the sake of it. You weren’t trying to frighten me. You were just focused on finding the best person to tutor Shireen.”

Stannis’ body twitched. “And you… liked that?”

“I really liked that,” she whispered. “But do you know what else I like?”

He went very still. “No.”

“The way you look when you talk about something you care about. Your coins. Shireen. Davos.” She remembered the way his eyes had lit up when he had first told her about his hobby, and the sweet way he had helped Shireen with her dancing right before the Winter Dance.

“Sansa…”

She moved her thigh off him, pushed his robe out of the way, and wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it slowly. He groaned. “You’re so fit,” she said, feeling blood rush to her face. “I really _really_ like touching you…”

She heard him exhale a shuddering breath, and then she was underneath him, her thighs spread, his cock pressed against her folds, and his tongue delving into her mouth with something like desperation.

Within moments he was inside her again, and she gasped into his mouth at the sudden invasion. Somehow he felt bigger than before, but she was sure that was just because she was becoming rather sensitive down there.

“Sansa, fuck, you’re so… you feel so... _fuck._ ”

Hearing Stannis babble like that sent a shock of heat through her, and she could have sworn he suddenly started gliding more easily in and out of her. It made everything feel much more pleasant, and she wrapped her legs tightly around him, squeezing him each time he filled her.

He started kissing her again, with aggressive swipes of his tongue and much clashing of teeth against teeth. Sometimes he sucked on her lower lip. She felt a little like he was trying to eat her. Soon he was devouring her neck, and then his hands were ripping the shirt she had borrowed open to fondle her breasts, groaning loudly.

Without really stopping, Stannis rolled them over, putting himself beneath her. “Sit up,” he said, his eyes fixed on her breasts.

And then she was riding him, fresh shocks of pleasure sparking through her due to the new angle. Every time she ground herself against him, his pubic bone rubbed against her clit even as his cock filled her up inside, overwhelming her with warm, sticky feelings of deep satisfaction. His hands were on her breasts, kneading them firmly, his thumbs flicking over her nipples again and again, adding even more tingly feelings to the mess of sensation.

“You’re perfect,” he said, staring up at her with an expression that was at once completely serious and a little out of it. Like he’d had a few.

“Mm?” was all she could really muster as a response. There wasn’t a single aspect of what they were doing that she wasn’t enjoying all the way down to her toes. _Especially the way he’s looking at me…_

He swallowed noticeably, stroking her breasts lightly - as if he were smearing paint over them. “Beautiful,” he added, his eyes meeting hers, his voice coming out in that way that _did things_ to her.

Her movement started to stutter. She couldn’t keep up with everything that was happening. Pleasure was muddling her brain, making her feel a little like it was leaking down her spine.

His hands went to her waist, and then he was bucking up sharply, using his hands to bounce her up and down, grunting with the effort. She could feel her breasts moving freely, a little like she was running without a sports bra, but she didn’t care. The friction of him filling her over and over, hard and unforgiving and stretching her in the best possible way, made her want to cry.

Was it possible to just come continuously?

By the time he slowed down, moaning her name and pulling her down for a kiss, she felt like the sweatiest, shakiest pile of useless muscle that had ever been placed on earth. Hopefully Stannis didn’t mind having her dead weight on top of him. She was never moving under her own steam again.

“Do you know what else is sexy about you?” she said, surprised at how raw her throat felt. Had she been screaming?

“What?” He sounded just as hoarse as he had when he had only just woken up.

“Everything you just did.”

He groaned, sounding as if she’d just dealt him a mortal wound, and her inner muscles clenched around his softening length without any conscious decision on her part. She tried not to let it distract her. Though he hadn’t exactly _spoken,_ she was almost sure his groan meant that he was flattered. If she weren’t completely boneless, she might have tried to crane her neck to see whether he was blushing.

“Can we do it again?” she asked, mostly just to see what he’d say. He was soft inside of her, and even that was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.

“ _Again?_ ” He huffed out a breath that might have been disbelieving or exasperated. She wasn’t sure. “I think it would be wiser to have some breakfast,” he said, shifting his hips so that he slid out of her.

“Mm, you’re probably right.”

They settled into a comfortable position for a moment, and Sansa wished she didn’t have to get up.

“Did you - did you mean all that?” Stannis asked after a few seconds of silence. “Those things you said about me.” He sounded tense.

“I meant every word,” she said, shifting so she’d be able to meet his eyes.

He searched her expression for several long moments. “I don’t know what to say in return,” he admitted quietly.

She smiled and kissed him briefly on the lips. “You said I was perfect,” she reminded him, her heart beating a little quicker at the memory. But then her stomach sank. “Unless you didn’t mean that?” He _had_ looked a little punch-drunk when he’d said it...

Stannis buried a hand in her hair and kissed her much more fiercely than she had just kissed him. “Perfect is an insufficient word,” he said when he finally pulled back, his eyes boring into hers.

Her insides, already quivery and useless from all the sex, melted into an unrecognisable mess.

“Can we have breakfast in bed? I can’t move.” She giggled, enjoying the way Stannis was fondling her as he gently pushed her off him.

He kissed her once he had arranged her on her back and settled her head on a nice fluffy pillow. “Absolutely not.”

She pouted. “Please?”

“There’s a very strict house rule about food and beds,” he said, his tone final.

She tried to wheedle him into making an exception, but it was absolutely impossible. She didn’t really mind, however. She got him to agree to lots of other things instead. Like helping her shower, and going to her favourite brunch place instead of eating in.

Since she was going to have to face Shireen that afternoon, knowing that she knew what they’d been up to, Sansa was determined to enjoy every part of her alone time with him first.

But really, Shireen had been remarkably calm about Sansa’s relationship with her father so far. She was sure that seeing Shireen wouldn’t be that bad.

Nothing to be nervous about.

Nothing at all.


	20. Status

Stannis had only just finished cleaning the dining room up when Shireen came home.

“Is it safe?” Shireen yelled from the entrance hall. “Can I come in with my eyes open?”

“I’m in here,” Stannis said, raising his voice just enough for it to carry.

Shireen stuck her head through the dining room door, one eye comically squeezed shut. “You’re alone?”

“Yes. But Sansa will be by later to tutor you,” Stannis said, closing the trash bag he had just filled with the remains of last night’s dinner. He disliked wasting food, but he wasn’t sure it would be good for anyone to eat food that had been left out overnight. Next time he and Sansa had dinner by themselves he would have to make sure not to get too distracted to put the leftovers away safely.

“Really?”

Stannis frowned at his daughter’s surprised reaction. “Of course.”

“So… nothing’s different?” Shireen sat down in the chair Sansa had occupied last night, fixing Stannis with an unwavering look.

“Would you like for something to be different?” Stannis asked, leaving the trash bag and sitting down next to Shireen.

She bit her lip. “I just thought… she’s your girlfriend now, isn’t she?”

Stannis’ heart leapt. “Sansa and I haven’t discussed it,” he said, doing his best to sound calm.

Shireen’s expression became very unimpressed. “Really? She slept over, didn’t she? That pretty much means that she’s your girlfriend.”

Stannis cleared his throat. “As I said. Sansa and I have yet to discuss it.” He paused. He had promised to keep his daughter informed, hadn’t he? Did that mean he had to tell her what he hoped would happen? What he suspected might happen? “But I believe that is the logical next step.”

“The logical next step?” Shireen said, raising her eyebrows. “Could you make this sound less romantic if you tried?”

He felt himself flush. “Shireen.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to be supportive, but you really should work on being more romantic. Sansa would love it.”

 _Would she?_ Sansa seemed fairly pleased with his behaviour so far, but perhaps Shireen was right. Perhaps Sansa expected him to… buy her flowers? He resisted the bizarre impulse to fidget as he thought it over. “I’ll take that into consideration,” he said.

There was a short pause where neither of them said anything, and the atmosphere seemed heavy with expectation. 

Stannis took a deep breath. “I apologise for failing to answer the phone last night. I hope I didn’t cause you to worry.”

Shireen shrugged. “I was a little worried at first, but Davos said you probably just wanted more time in private with Sansa, and since Devan and I were having a _Lord of the Seven Kingdoms_ marathon anyway, I decided not to think about it too hard. You’re welcome.”

His face burning uncomfortably, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lord of the _what_?”

“It’s a series of movies about Aegon the Conqueror.” She shook her head, looking at him with something like disbelief mixed with wonder. “You really don’t pay attention to pop culture, do you?”

Stannis had a coin that was dated to Aegon the First’s era, but he doubted Shireen would be interested in that. He shook his head; the conversation was getting derailed. “Clearly I have missed out on a cinematic masterpiece, but-”

“Masterpiec _es_. Plural.”

“Of course. But if we could move on, I’d like to know how you would feel about Sansa staying over in the future.”

Shireen put her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands. “Please don’t make me think about it. I did such a good job _not_ thinking about it last night. You’re ruining it.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could try to be mature about this,” he said, still forcing himself to sound calm even though his heart was beating erratically.

She peered at him through her fingers, sighed, and sat up straight. “I don’t mind her staying over. But just… don’t rub my face in it. Please.”

He shifted in his chair. “What would constitute ‘rubbing your face in it’?”

She sighed again, her face turning pink. “You know. Loud noises. Walking around in your underwear. Making out all over the place. Stuff like that.”

Stannis almost choked on thin air. How loud did Shireen suppose it was possible to be during sex? The master bedroom was both on a different floor than Shireen’s bedroom, and on the other side of the house. Once he’d recovered, he managed a sharp, “quite,” and a look that was hopefully sufficiently stern to prevent the subject of him walking around in his underwear from ever being raised again.

“And… if she starts staying here more, please don’t forget I exist,” Shireen added in a small voice.

Stannis stared at her, speechless, his chest constricting at the look in his daughter’s eyes. Had he really managed to shake Shireen’s confidence in him to this extent? True, he had forgotten to make any arrangements regarding a sleepover last night, but that didn’t mean he’d forget Shireen if she were in the same room with himself and Sansa. Didn’t she know that? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them back up, he met Shireen’s eyes squarely. “Shireen, you have my word; I won’t forget you.”

She searched his face, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed.

Stannis held his breath.

Finally, she smiled, her entire face lighting up. “Okay.”

The tight feeling in his chest dissipated, and he nodded.

There was a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint sound of the ocean drifting in through an open window.

“So,” Shireen said at length, her eyes twinkling worryingly, “can Ned start sleeping over, too?”

Stannis glowered at her. “No.”

***

Sansa didn’t know how to behave. Shireen had been acting overly cheerful ever since she’d greeted Sansa at the door, but it was _obviously_ not sincere. Stannis had been nowhere to be seen. Most likely he was in his study. Sansa felt a pang of longing at the thought of him. She could still feel the echo of the morning’s… exercise… between her thighs.

Jeyne had been excited for her. When Sansa had arrived home after sharing a long, luxurious meal with Stannis at her favourite little bistro, Jeyne had practically tackled her to the ground and demanded details.

Somehow Sansa doubted that Shireen would be as keen as Jeyne to hear all about what kind of lover Stannis was. Much less the size of his ‘equipment’.

“Lovely weather today, don’t you think?” Shireen said, sorting through her notebooks with cheerful efficiency, getting everything set up for a study session. “It really feels like summer is just around the corner!”

Sansa couldn’t take the relentless small talk anymore. “Is everything… I mean, are we okay?” she asked, chewing on her lower lip and watching Shireen’s face with knots in her stomach.

“Of course we’re okay,” Shireen said brightly. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

Sansa noticed that Shireen was clutching her pencil case suspiciously tightly. “Well,” she said carefully, “because I stayed overnight with your dad.” Her face felt red-hot.

Shireen grimaced. “Why does everyone keep reminding me?”

Sansa didn’t know what to say to that.

“Look, I really don’t want to think about any of this, but I think you should talk to my dad and tell him that you’re his girlfriend now. He doesn’t seem to know.”

Sansa blinked at Shireen, her thoughts becoming hopelessly jumbled. “Oh.” _Girlfriend?_

“But not right now, because we’re supposed to study,” Shireen added, her expression becoming stubborn. “And you promised that this whole thing with my dad wouldn’t… you know.” Her stubborn expression wavered, and she looked down at her lap. “Ruin things.”

Sansa’s heart jumped into her throat. “Of course I won’t go right now.” She placed her hand over one of Shireen’s. “We have final exams to prepare for.”

Shireen looked up. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Sansa said firmly, squeezing Shireen’s hand and then pulling back. “Starting with chapter twenty.” 

Sansa doubted any sixteen year old had ever looked as happy to prepare for exams.

***

Stannis looked up when he heard Sansa’s familiar knock on his study door, his heart already beating a little harder at the thought of seeing her. “Enter,” he said, hurriedly running his hand through his hair, hoping it was behaving.

Sansa looked just like she had at brunch. Beautiful, casually dressed, and smiling at him. The sight really shouldn’t cause his stomach to jump. Honestly, it had only been a few hours.

“Finished with your tutoring?”

She nodded, and without saying another word, they both headed for the sofa in the corner.

She kissed him as if she hadn’t seen him since last week, and he quickly gave into the urge to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. He doubted he would ever get tired of running his fingers through her hair.

“I missed you,” Sansa said some minutes later, nuzzling his neck.

Stannis could have answered her in several appropriate ways. He could have told her that he has missed her too, or said something about how it was illogical to miss each other after such a short amount of time, or even told her that he was pleased to see her. What came out of his mouth was none of those things.

“Do you consider yourself my,“ he hesitated. The word ‘girlfriend’ seemed juvenile. “Significant other?”

Sansa’s head snapped up, and she blinked at him rapidly. Her face was flushed, but Stannis wasn’t sure whether that was due to all the kissing, or whether it was a reaction to his question. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” she asked, biting her lip.

Somehow the word sounded very different coming from Sansa. He found that he didn’t mind it. “Yes.”

“Then I am.” Sansa kissed his cheek.

He filled his lungs and tightened his hold on her, feeling a little lightheaded. “Good,” he said, exhaling slowly.

“So… does that mean you’re my boyfriend?” Sansa asked, seemingly quite happy to be crushed to his chest, judging by the way she was pressing herself even closer.

“I’m hardly a boy.”

“True, but ‘manfriend’ doesn’t really have the same ring to it.”

He huffed out an amused breath, feeling remarkably warm and content. “True.”

“Should I change my status on Facebook?” Sansa asked, her voice a little muffled. “Tell the world?”

“If you wish,” he said, wondering whether she expected him to start a Facebook account so that he could change his ‘status’ too.

“There’s no one you want to talk to first?”

Stannis thought of Cressen for a moment, but shook his head. Knowing the old man, he had probably known what would happen before Stannis had figured it out. “My brothers and Shireen already know about us.”

“What about Cressen?” Sansa asked. Apparently she could read minds, now. “I haven’t seen him around much lately. Does he know?”

“He’s my butler,” Stannis said, keeping his tone mild.

“A bit more than a butler, according to Shireen,” Sansa said, pulling herself away from his chest so that she could look him in the eyes. “She talks about him like he’s her grandfather.”

“I’m sure he already knows.”

“How?” Sansa frowned. “I feel like I haven’t seen him around in ages.”

“He’s always here during the week. He’d be here on weekends too if I hadn’t forbidden it.”

“Why did you forbid it?”

Stannis sighed. “He’s old. He needs the weekends to rest. Preferably in a house without too many staircases.”

“Oh.” Sansa rested her head on his shoulder. “Does the cook need to rest, too?”

“I happen to like having the house to myself on weekends,” Stannis said, taking a strand of Sansa’s hair and slowly wrapping it around a finger.

“Why?” Her tone was curious and free of judgment.

Stannis considered the question before answering it. When he had told Cressen to take weekends off, it had just seemed simpler to apply the same rule to all of the household help. It had been an adjustment, at first; he’d had to think about ordering dinner, and cleaning up after himself. But it was relaxing to be able to wander the halls without worrying about being observed. And Shireen tended to seek him out more if Cressen wasn’t there to take care of her every need.

Haltingly, Stannis tried to explain this to Sansa.

“I understand,” Sansa said, idly stroking his arm. “I used to treasure it when I managed to snag a few hours with just my mother, all to myself. It didn’t happen very often, though. Not with four siblings, and one cousin hanging around. And old Nan. And the dogs.”

Stannis felt like an invisible hand had reached inside of him and squeezed his heart. He wasn’t sure why. Shouldn’t it feel good to know that Sansa had been surrounded by so many people who loved her as she had been growing up? “What about your father?”

Sansa stilled. “What about him?”

“Did you ever spend time with just him?” Stannis was thinking about Shireen, wondering whether it was good or bad for her to be going through her adolescence without a mother.

His chest tightened for a moment. _At least she isn’t missing both parents._

“Not really.” She was hiding her face against the crook of his neck.

Stannis wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation. He hesitated. “Would you have wanted to?”

“I - I think so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not really sure what it would be like, having him all to myself. We never really spent time together, just the two of us.”

Stannis wondered whether he’d make time for Shireen if he had three sons and another daughter. His heart gave a sharp twinge. “That’s unfortunate for him,” Stannis said, unable to picture a world where he never spent any time with Shireen. “He’s missed out on a lot.”

Feeling sorry for Ned Stark was extremely strange.

His thoughts flew out of his head when Sansa suddenly clambered onto his lap and caught his lips in a passionate kiss. It was all he could do to wrap his arms around her and try to keep up. She was using her tongue much more aggressively than she ever had before, and when she wasn’t trying to lick every inch of his mouth, she was nibbling on his lips and making maddening little noises that went straight to his groin.

“Sansa,” he said when she finally paused for breath, “what are you -?”

She kissed him again, cutting him off mid-question.

Quite a while later, when the pressure beneath his belt was starting to make him consider undressing her right then and there, Sansa paused for breath again. “I really like you,” she whispered, hugging him tightly.

His arousal went from a roiling boil to a more comfortable simmer, and his heart suddenly felt too big for his chest. “Likewise.”

“I’m glad we’re together,” she went on, sounding almost shy.

“Me too,” he murmured, enjoying the comforting weight of her body, her warmth and her scent. It still didn’t seem quite real that he was allowed to hold her this way.

If it hadn’t been for the need to eat, Stannis thought they probably might have stayed tangled up in each other for the rest of the night. But eventually they broke apart and went downstairs to arrange dinner. 

Shireen only rolled her eyes at them once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of part I of the story. I think I will start posting part II next Wednesday, skipping my usual Sunday update since I will be out of town this weekend. Love you guys! ♥


	21. Part II: Going Public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update for you guys since you didn't get one on Sunday, and because I'll probably be too busy tomorrow to post. I hope you enjoy it!

**Part II**

“Are you certain you wish to stay?” Stannis asked, looking concerned.

“I’ll be fine,” Sansa said, stroking his arm. “I want to be here.”

“Robert will probably say something,” Stannis muttered, his eyes following her hand as it moved up and down. Sansa wasn’t sure whether the touch was relaxing him or making him tense up. Possibly it was doing both.

“Let him,” Sansa said, shrugging. “Believe me, I can cope with Robert.” The idea of possibly having to talk to Tywin Lannister made her a lot more nervous than the idea of seeing Robert again.

“We could just leave,” Stannis suggested, his concern still palpable. “These parties are pointless. I don’t know why we throw them.”

“The company throws them to make sure the important people in King’s Landing know that you are rich and successful and worth investing in, and to make sure the politicians know that they should listen to your opinions when it comes to legislative decisions,” Sansa said, knowing full-well that Stannis did not need to be told. She was still stroking his arm; the material of his dinner jacket was very soft.

“I know, I know,” Stannis said, not looking convinced. Mostly he looked edible in his impeccably tailored dinner jacket, snow-white shirt, and black bowtie. Sansa wondered if she’d be able to convince him to wear things like this more often. Maybe she should develop a passion for the opera? Men dressed like this for the opera. “But we could still leave.”

Sansa kissed him, running her thumb over his lips as soon as she drew back to wipe the lipstick off. “We’re here,” she said, “and we’re all dressed up, so we might as well just make the rounds. If it’s terrible we can always leave.”

Stannis nodded, his eyes a little out of focus. 

She couldn’t help but smile; his eyes had been getting that glazed look every few minutes since he’d seen her in her dress. The slinky black number she’d bought especially for tonight was clearly as much to his liking as she had hoped.

They entered the party, the noise of music and conversation rising along with the temperature. The floor to ceiling windows all along the walls weren’t doing much to help, though Sansa was sure the venue would be considerably more tolerable when it wasn’t packed with people. Sansa was very glad her dress left a tasteful expanse of skin exposed. She didn’t envy Stannis in all his layers.

Sansa grabbed a glass of Champagne from a passing waiter, taking a hasty sip. It was deliciously cool.

Renly and Loras were the first familiar people to spot them, but though Loras gave her a friendly wave, the pair didn’t move towards them. Sansa tried not to let it bother her. There were plenty of other people to talk to after all, and it wasn’t as if the run-in they’d had at the theatre had been all that pleasant.

“There you are,” a relieved voice said, and Sansa turned her head away from Loras and Renly to see who it might be. A man with a neat beard and kind eyes was smiling at Stannis. He was carrying a half-full glass of Champagne. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Davos,” Stannis said, and Sansa could feel some of the rigid tension in his frame melt away.

 _So this is Davos,_ Sansa thought, taking a closer look. He didn’t look at all the way she had imagined. Somehow she had expected him to look more like Stannis. Shaking the thought off, she extended a hand. “Mr. Seaworth,” she said, smiling widely. “How lovely to finally meet you. Stannis and Shireen talk about you all the time.”

Davos took her proffered hand and shook it, his eyes sweeping over her once before returning to her face. “All good things, I hope,” he said, his eyes lighting up with a touch of mischief. “And it’s Davos, please.”

Sansa smiled and pressed herself close to Stannis, enjoying the way he rested his hand at the small of her back.

“Davos, this is Sansa Stark,” Stannis said, clearing his throat. “My significant other.”

Sansa’s stomach filled with butterflies, and she felt her heart jump when Stannis pressed his hand more firmly against her.

Davos sipped his Champagne in a poor attempt at hiding an amused smile.

“Has everything been going well?” Stannis asked.

“Robert gave a short speech of welcome earlier, mostly just telling everyone to take advantage of the open bar.” Davos lifted his glass. “Cheers.”

Sansa felt Stannis tense up. “Open bar? He didn’t clear that with me. What’s the point of agreeing on a budget for these damn parties if he’s just going to -”

“Relax,” Davos said, “I spoke to the bartender. We won’t break the bank.”

“With Robert here? Don’t be so sure.” Stannis didn’t _sound_ reassured, but Sansa could feel him relaxing again. Clearly, he trusted Davos.

“Sansa!”

“Speak of the devil,” Davos muttered, tipping his glass almost upside down and draining it.

Robert arrived on the scene, carrying a glass of beer and grinning. “It’s been too long!” He enveloped Sansa in a bear hug, tearing her out of the comfortable half-embrace she’d had going with Stannis. She returned the hug half-heartedly, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of beer that washed over her senses.

“Hello Robert,” she said, though her voice was muffled by the hug.

“You’re squashing her,” Stannis said peevishly.

“Nonsense!” Robert said, though he did release her and take a step back. 

Sansa immediately returned to Stannis, but he didn’t put his arm around her like before. It seemed almost as if he had been turned to stone; the only muscles moving were in his jaw. She could hear his molars grinding together.

“So, you two dating publicly now?” Robert asked, either unaware of or unconcerned with Stannis’ mood.

“We never really dated secretly,” Sansa said, raising her eyebrows. “But yes, we’re together, if that’s what you mean.”

“And he’s treating you right?” Robert asked, leaning in close. “Because if he isn’t, you can just call your Uncle Robert and I’ll make sure to show him some of my old wrestling moves.” He gave an exaggerated wink. “I haven’t forgotten a thing, you know.”

Sansa felt herself blush and tried not to gape at Robert. Aside from feeling embarrassed, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hurt. Where had this protective version of Robert been when she had been with Joff?

“Wait, if you’re her uncle, and Stannis is your brother -” Davos began, his brows furrowed. Stannis glared at him, and he fell silent.

Robert let out a bark of laughter and elbowed Davos in this ribs in a way that was probably supposed to be friendly. “I’m not really her uncle! But her father Ned and I are practically brothers. She knows what I mean. Don’t you, Sansa?”

Sansa forced herself to smile.

Robert clapped her on the back. “It does my heart good to see you smile,” he said, launching into a story about the good old days and the crush he’d used to have on her Aunt Lyanna before she died, and how Sansa apparently had the same smile. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before from him, but before the divorce Cersei had usually been around to glare at him until he stopped. Stannis was certainly glaring at Robert now, but it didn’t seem to work the same way.

Discreetly, Sansa looked around, wondering whether Cersei might be present. It didn’t seem like she was. Tywin Lannister was standing next to Addam Marbrand, and Tyrion was perched on a barstool, laughing at something the bartender had just said, but there was no sign of any other Lannister at the party.

“Robert, as much as I enjoy your company, I think Stannis and I should make the rounds now,” Sansa said, winding herself around one of Stannis’ arms and hoping that he would play along. His teeth-grinding was becoming alarmingly loud. “But it’s been lovely catching up.”

“Of course, of course,” Robert said, clapping Stannis’ shoulder this time. Stannis aimed a venomous look at Robert’s hand, and Robert let go with a laugh. “Have a good night.”

“Wrestling moves?” Davos said once Robert was out of earshot, sounding as if he’d been holding the comment in for a while. “Has he looked in a mirror lately?”

Stannis made a scoffing sound, but once again Sansa could feel the way he relaxed at Davos’ words. His hand was warm at the small of her back again.

Davos changed the subject to Shireen, leading to several enjoyable minutes of conversation. It was clear to Sansa that Davos cared about Shireen almost as if she were his own blood. The look in both Stannis’ and Davos’ eyes softened in exactly the same way as they spoke of her, and there were identical inflections of pride in their voices. It was subtle, but Sansa knew what to look for.

“Mr. Baratheon?”

Sansa recognised the voice and froze. Had Mayor Marbrand drifted over on his own, or was Mr. Lannister still with him? Her heart pounded uncomfortably as she turned her head to look.

To her relief, the mayor was alone. He stood with his back straight and his shoulders squared, a serious expression on his face. His hair was auburn, though a darker shade than Sansa’s, and objectively, Sansa supposed he was an attractive man. Aging gracefully. If she didn’t know that the man was in Tywin Lannister’s pocket, she might have enjoyed the view.

“Mr. Mayor,” Stannis said, shaking hands.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your friends,” Marbrand said, nodding at her and Davos. He looked her over in much the same way as Davos had earlier, but his eyes lingered below her neck rather a lot longer.

Sansa pressed herself closer to Stannis as pointedly as she could.

Stannis introduced Davos tersely, and Marbrand shook hands with him, one eye still on Sansa.

“And this is Sansa Stark. My significant other.” Stannis was glaring at the mayor.

“Significant other? I thought you were married?”

“Divorced.”

Marbrand raised his eyebrows, his eyes flitting from Stannis’ face to hers a few times. “I see,” he said, his tone heavy with unspoken implications.

Stannis scowled.

“Stannis has been divorced for a few years,” Davos said, his voice friendly even though his eyes had gone cold. “Not everyone is fortunate enough to get it right the first time around,” he continued pleasantly.

“Of course, of course,” Marbrand said, chuckling in a way that might have been charming under different circumstances.

“Mrs. Marbrand not here tonight?” Davos asked, making a show of looking around.

“She’s at home with the children,” Marbrand said. “Our youngest is only a few months old. She doesn’t like leaving him with a sitter.” His eyes kept sliding from Davos to Sansa, and her skin prickled at the way he was staring.

“I remember what that was like. I had a hard time tearing myself away from the kids when they were little,” Davos said, sounding genuinely nostalgic.

“Oh, yes. It’s a struggle,” the mayor said. Sansa might have believed him if his eyes weren’t still subtly darting down to her cleavage every few seconds.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Mayor?” Stannis spoke up, his words polite but his tone far from civil.

Sansa pressed herself as close as she could without being improper, and moved the hand she had on Stannis’ chest in tiny circles, aiming to soothe. She felt Stannis’ hand move from the small of her back to her waist, gripping her firmly.

“Hmm?” Marbrand tore his eyes away from her and looked at Stannis. As soon as he met Stannis’ eyes he took a small step backwards, straightening his back. “Yes. I, er, I wanted to talk to you about the bridge contract.”

“That’s hardly a matter we can discuss at a party,” Stannis said. “Call the office and arrange a meeting if you wish to go over the details.”

Marbrand chuckled. “I didn’t mean that we should start talking about the small print. I just wanted to check in. Is everything on track?”

“As far as I know,” Stannis said coolly.

“Excellent.” Marbrand’s eyes honed in on her again. “So… Stark was it? You wouldn’t happen to be related to Ned Stark?”

“He’s my father,” Sansa said, not certain she liked where this conversation was going.

Marbrand blinked at her, pausing for several beats. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Just one younger sister,” Sansa said slowly, wondering why he was asking.

The mayor was still blinking. He looked from her to Stannis and then over his shoulder towards the bar, where Tywin Lannister seemed to be saying something to Tyrion. “Was it your sister who used to date Joffrey Baratheon, then?”

Sansa drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “No. That was me.”

Marbrand went quiet. He was looking at her more closely than ever, and his face appeared flushed. Somehow Sansa knew it wasn’t due to the heat of the room.

“Mr. Mayor, I fail to see how this is relevant,” Stannis said, sounding downright rude, now.

“I -” Marbrand began, clearing his throat, his eyes still fixed on her. “You must still be in college.”

Sansa didn’t answer him.

Marband’s eyes flickered to the flute of Champagne Sansa was carrying. “Would you like a fresh drink?”

She wasn’t sure what to think. Was he hitting on her? Hurriedly, she shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? I’d very much like to talk to you about the situation in Winterfell,” Marbrand said, taking a step closer.

There was no ‘situation’ in Winterfell that Sansa was aware of, so that simplified things; the mayor was definitely hitting on her. Feeling her stomach turn, Sansa forced herself to smile. 

“I can tell my father you’re interested in talking to him, but I’m afraid I haven’t really been keeping up with what’s currently going on in Winterfell.” She painted on her best innocent expression and rested her head against Stannis’ shoulder. “I mean, I only just finished my final exams last week, and since then I’ve been spending every spare minute with Stannis, making up for lost time.” She paused to flutter her eyelashes at Marbrand, gauging his reaction. His face was definitely a bit red. But that wasn’t all she noticed.

Stannis’ breath had hitched in his throat, and his fingers were twitching a little at her waist.

She paused for a moment, processing this, and then she decided to push what she was doing a little further. “You know how it is when you start a new relationship,” she said, biting her lip and trailing a finger along the lapel of Stannis’ dinner jacket slowly and pointedly. “You just can’t get enough of each other…” 

Stannis’ eyes darkened, and his nostrils flared. Meanwhile, Davos cleared his throat and started examining the ceiling.

“I - yes. I suppose,” Marbrand said, his lips thinning. “Excuse me.” He turned on his heel and walked off towards the bar.

Stannis drew in a sharp breath. His eyes were still dark, but his ears were bright red.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Sansa said, aiming a small smile at Stannis.

Davos was still looking anywhere but at them. Stannis didn’t move or say anything. He was just gazing at her in a way that made her knees feel weak.

After what seemed like an eternity, Stannis finally spoke. “Why did you -”

“Hello!”

Sansa turned to glare at whoever it was that had interrupted them, but her irritation melted away at the sight of a gleeful Loras. Renly was trailing behind him, wearing a stubborn, reluctant expression.

“Did I hallucinate or did you just _embarrass_ Mayor Marbrand into leaving you alone?” Loras asked, grinning like a lunatic.

Stannis glared at Loras, his ears still red.

“We didn’t do anything embarrassing,” Sansa said, taking a small sip of her Champagne.

Davos coughed. It sounded a lot like the sort of cough one might make to cover up a laugh.

Loras actually did laugh. “All I know is that Renly and I would probably have been thrown out for that kind of PDA.”

“PDA? We didn’t even kiss.”

“You didn’t need to,” Loras said, raising a brow. “Anyway, nevermind all that, how are you? You look gorgeous!”

Sansa chatted with Loras for a bit, feeling highly aware of the uncomfortable silence between Stannis, Renly and Davos. She could tell that Loras noticed it too, but judging by the determined look in his eyes, he was ignoring it. 

“I noticed you talked to Robert,” Loras said after they’d made the necessary small talk. 

The silence between Stannis and Renly thickened.

“We did,” Sansa admitted, taking a large sip of her Champagne. “He’s thinking about getting back into wrestling.” 

Davos coughed exactly like he had before. Renly raised a brow. Stannis just continued to scowl. None of them said anything, however.

Loras chuckled. “Oh, really? Just as a hobby, or is he planning on fighting someone in particular?”

“He seemed to think I might need a champion to protect my virtue,” Sansa said, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. As much as she wanted to play it all off as a joke, the embarrassment was still fresh.

“I’d say it’s a bit late for that,” Loras said, waggling his eyebrows.

Stannis’ scowl deepened.

When Sansa’s flute of Champagne was empty she used it as an opportunity to bow out of the conversation. Stannis didn’t show his relief, but he was very quick to agree that it was important for them to go get a refill for Sansa. Immediately.

Davos followed them at first, but broke off to go look for his wife after a few steps. (“I think she was talking to some of the women from the accounting department over by the balcony…”)

As soon as Davos was gone Stannis pulled Sansa off to the side. They weren’t quite hidden from view, but a large sculpture would prevent most people from noticing them straight away.

“Why did you say those things to Mayor Marbrand?” Stannis asked sharply without preamble, looking intently at her.

Sansa tried not to feel chastened. “He was hitting on me,” she said, meeting Stannis’ eyes. “I wanted to make it clear that I’m with you.”

Stannis’ ears turned red again and he looked around, clearly checking to see whether they were being watched. “It was inappropriate.”

“I don’t think it was. Especially for people who recently got together,” Sansa argued, crossing her arms. _And you liked it._

“Well,” Stannis paused, looking flustered, “please don’t do it again.”

She uncrossed her arms, feeling something inside her soften. “Do you want me to stop touching you at all in public?”

A stricken look flashed across his face, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times. No words came out.

Resisting the urge to smile, she wound herself around his arm. “Is this too much?” she asked.

Mutely, Stannis shook his head. His eyes were darkening again.

She placed her free hand on his chest, moving one finger in miniscule circles. “How about this?”

He inhaled just loudly enough for her to register it as unusual. “I - maybe.” His voice had dropped to a lower register, and Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of it.

“Well, is it okay if I look at you?” She gazed at him from beneath slightly lowered lashes, fully aware of how flirtatious it made her appear.

“Sansa…” There was both frustration and longing in his tone, and Sansa _wished_ they were somewhere less public. She wanted to kiss him.

After several quiet moments spent staring at each other, she sighed. “We should probably go to the bar and get that drink.”

Stannis nodded, his eyes burning.

She kept herself wound around his arm as they walked, glancing up at him every now and then. He was looking straight ahead at the bar each time, but Sansa was sure he noticed her looking. Each time she glanced at him, the muscles in his arms would flex, or he’d swallow.

Stannis had barely managed to ask for a fresh flute of Champagne when an irritating, familiar voice piped up beside them.

“Well, hello there,” Tyrion Lannister said, swiveling his barstool towards them, “if it isn’t the beauty and the bore.”

Stannis immediately clenched his jaw.

“Tyrion,” Sansa said, smiling politely despite the dig at Stannis. “How are you?” Once she had felt quite sorry for Tyrion. She had thought he was different from the rest of his family. But though he had certainly been kinder to her than the others, he hadn’t helped her. Not in any way that _mattered._

“Me? Just amazing,” he said flatly, knocking back a finger of what looked like whiskey. He grimaced.

The bartender handed Stannis the flute of Champagne he’d requested, and Stannis passed it on to her. She smiled at him in thanks, wishing again that she could kiss him. Despite his obvious irritation with Tyrion, he looked handsome and _eminently_ kissable. Especially since his ears were still a little red from earlier.

“ _Really?_ ” Tyrion said, shaking his head, staring at them.

“Really what?” Sansa asked, taking a small sip of her drink. The bubbles tickled her nose pleasantly.

“You’re really together? This isn’t just some… stunt?”

“Careful,” Stannis warned, glaring at Tyrion.

Tyrion held two hands up, showing his palms. “No offense meant,” he said. “It’s just rare for my father to get things so horribly wrong.” He grinned and asked the bartender for more whiskey.

“What did Mr. Lannister get wrong?” Sansa asked, furrowing her brow.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tyrion said with a chuckle. He turned to look at Stannis consideringly. “What I want to know is how you managed _this._ ” He gestured at Sansa’s general person and surroundings. “You’re not exactly Aemon the Dragonknight.”

“What? Sworn to celibacy?” Stannis snorted, still glaring daggers.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.” He turned to look at Sansa again. “Why are you throwing yourself away on this dried up prune?”

“I like Stannis,” Sansa said, meeting Tyrion’s eyes firmly. “He treats me well.”

Tyrion had the decency to look away.

“We should go,” Stannis said, every line of his face displeased.

Sansa nodded. “It was nice to see you, Tyrion.”

Tyrion, who had more whiskey in his glass now, mumbled something into it.

Almost as soon as they’d made it out of earshot of the bar, a group of men who turned out to be on the company’s board with Stannis mobbed the pair of them. Stannis looked beleaguered, but made the necessary introductions. (Sansa still felt a little thrill when Stannis called her his significant other.)

“I saw you speaking to Marbrand earlier,” a man called Richard Horpe said, his eyes sharp. “Should we be worried?”

“He wanted to talk about the bridge contract,” Stannis said stiffly.

“I don’t know,” a man called Justin Massey said with a wide grin, “looked to me that he was more interested in something else.” He looked pointedly at Sansa.

Sansa knew what he meant, but she also knew that it wouldn’t do anyone much good if that sort of gossip started to spread. “You’re right,” she said, shooting him a wide smile of her own, “he seemed more interested in talking about his newborn.” She adjusted her tone, filling it with sympathy. “He said it was a struggle to leave his wife and children at home to attend this party.” 

None of the men looked entirely convinced. 

“Do any of you have children?” she added, tilting her head to the side and gazing curiously around at them.

It was enough. Nearly all of the men had children, and two of the older board members had grandchildren, too. She soon had them all pulling out their phones to show her pictures, and she cooed over them all, and asked after their names. Richard Horpe had particularly adorable twin girls, Ashley and Alyssa, that made Sansa’s insides melt into a puddle. (Dimples _and_ blond curls decorated with pink bows.) The two men who didn’t have kids showed her pictures of their pets instead, and Sansa swore up and down that their dogs reminded her of Lady and Summer respectively.

Stannis mostly kept quiet, but she could feel his hand on the small of her back again, and one of his fingers would occasionally move in a little circle.

“They were nice,” Sansa said after the men moved on.

Stannis looked at her with a crease between his brows. “They’re usually not that talkative.”

Sansa was about to ask Stannis why he thought that was, but the question died on the tip of her tongue when the person she least wanted to speak to parted the crowd in front of them. Everyone moved out of his way without being asked. A woman in very tall heels nearly tripped in her haste.

“Mr. Baratheon. Miss Stark.” Tywin Lannister’s eyes were piercing, his voice cool. He was holding a glass of Champagne, but it looked untouched.

Stannis scowled, but jerked his head in what might optimistically be considered a polite nod of greeting.

“Mr. Lannister,” Sansa said, forcing herself to stand up straight and meet his eyes. “I hope you’re well.”

“I am,” Tywin said flatly. He was still looking at them as if he were trying to X-ray them with the force of his stare. “And yourself?”

“I’m very well, thank you.” Sansa glanced at Stannis, and tightened her grip on his arm by a margin. She needed to borrow a little strength.

There was a long, tense silence.

“It’s not going to work,” Tywin suddenly said, addressing Stannis. “The Stark name can only do so much.”

Sansa frowned, wondering if this had anything to do with what Tyrion had said about Tywin getting something wrong. 

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Stannis said. He was still scowling, the expression taking over his entire face and most of his body, too.

For a long moment Tywin said nothing. His face might easily have been carved out of stone, and his eyes were devoid of any spark of life. 

Sansa felt a chill run down the length of her spine. 

“Suit yourself,” Tywin said, turning around and disappearing into the crowd without so much as a nod good-bye.

“What was that?” Sansa asked, watching as Stannis’ scowl faded into a frown. She had a sneaking suspicion, but it just seemed so… unlikely.

“He thinks I’m using you,” Stannis said, his hands curling into fists.

Sansa nodded. “Yes, but for what?” How would the Stark name help Stannis? He already had the Baratheon name, which was just as good. Especially south of the Neck.

“Politics, I’d assume.” Stannis was still glaring in the space Tywin had previously occupied.

“But you’re not a politician,” Sansa said, fondly recalling a dinner conversation she, Shireen and Stannis had once had. “And if you wanted to become one, the Baratheon name would help you more here in King’s Landing.” Robert had been a fairly popular mayor after all, especially in the beginning.

“You’re forgetting that my ex-wife left me to join a cult,” Stannis said, turning his head to look towards the nearest window. “The press would eat me alive if I tried to run for any sort of office.”

“Mr. Lannister thinks you’re using me to make your private life seem _less_ scandalous?” Sansa couldn’t quite keep the bemused tone out of the her voice.

“The Stark name is widely associated with strong family values and integrity,” Stannis said, still looking out the window rather than at her, his form tense. “Even here in the south.”

Sansa didn’t know what to say to that. She knew it was true. She even suspected that Tywin had been pleased to see her with Joff because of it. In his mind, Sansa was sure, she and Joff were supposed to be his perfect little puppets forever.

In the end, Sansa didn’t say anything. Davos and his wife, a lovely woman who introduced herself as Marya, found them and struck up an easy conversation about the upcoming summer holidays. The Seaworths were planning a trip to the riverlands, and when Marya found out that Sansa’s mother was born there, she had a lot of questions.

As Sansa did her best to answer Marya’s questions, she could not help but notice that Stannis still looked tense and deep in thought. He was not relaxing due to Davos’ presence as he had at the beginning of the night. Neither was he resting his hand on the small of her back.

In the car on the way back to Stannis’ house however, he seemed a little more like himself, and by the time they were in his bedroom, she was sure they were both concentrating on nothing but each other.


	22. Discoveries

As much as he tried to forget it, the memory of what Sansa had said to Mayor Marbrand kept popping into his head at the strangest moments.

He knew he ought to be concerning himself more with what Tywin Lannister had implied, but being with Sansa was probably addling his brains. Thinking about the way she had touched him at the party, and the way she had sounded, seemed much more interesting than thinking about nearly anything else.

_“You know how it is when you start a new relationship, you just can’t get enough of each other…”_

Her words were certainly _accurate,_ but he really didn’t know what she had meant by telling the mayor about it. Just thinking about it was enough to prompt a surge of heat to rush through him: a peculiar mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

Of course Marbrand had been acting perfectly obnoxious, trying to drag Sansa off for a drink, but Stannis could easily have sent him off with a few well chosen words. Sansa hadn’t needed to… do what she did. In public.

Stannis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His heart was beating too fast again.

Marbrand had looked jealous for a moment there, hadn’t he? He’d seen those jealous looks often enough in the past, but they had never been directed at _him._

His stomach squirmed, and he glanced at his phone. It was sitting on his desk not far from the mouse his hand was resting on, though he hadn’t clicked it for several minutes. The screensaver had turned on without him noticing. It was nearly five o’clock.

Perhaps he ought to call Sansa? See whether she wanted to have dinner with him and Shireen tonight? Now that both girls were on holiday there was no particular tutoring schedule to rely on, and though Sansa was staying over at his house more and more, she generally returned to her apartment to presumably spend time with Jeyne during the day. 

_They’re doing some sort of charity work, aren’t they?_

A knock on his office door startled him from his thoughts.

“Enter.”

Davos opened the door, looking even more cheerful than he usually did. “I’m about to head off,” he said, grinning. “I’ve put my affairs in order, but you have my number if anything comes up. The reception in the riverlands is supposed to be good.”

Stannis nodded. He didn’t like it when Davos went off for holidays; he didn’t trust any of his other employees the way he trusted him. But there was nothing for it.

“You’re taking some time off soon, aren’t you?” Davos asked, leaning against the door jamb.

“I’m going to Winterfell with Sansa for a long weekend. For her brother’s wedding.”

“That’s on the sixteenth, isn’t it? Is Shireen going with you?”

“Yes, the sixteenth. We haven’t discussed taking Shireen along, but I find it unlikely. I’m going as Sansa’s plus one.” Stannis was fairly certain it was frowned upon to bring uninvited guests to weddings.

Davos wrinkled his forehead. “I thought Sansa said something about wanting the three of you to take a vacation at the party the other night?”

Stannis frowned. Had she? He hadn’t been paying very much attention when Sansa had spoken to Marya about their summer plans. He’d had other things on his mind. In any case, Stannis wasn’t sure he could allow himself the luxury of a proper vacation. Things tended to go _wrong_ when he wasn’t around to clean up Robert’s messes. “We haven’t made any concrete plans.”

“Well, you should. Even if it’s just a week. You work too much.”

“Some people work too little.”

“You do realise that there are other people at the company who would step up to the plate if you took a few days off, don’t you?” Davos asked, his cheerful expression becoming more serious.

“They’d try.” Stannis muttered, reaching for a stack of contracts and documents that needed signatures. He was sure there was one in there that Davos needed to sign before he left.

Davos walked towards his desk, already unscrewing the cap of his pen.

Stannis suppressed a sigh as he watched Davos wordlessly scan the document and then sign his name in the correct places. He wished he had more employees that could read his mind the way Davos could.

“Call me if there’s anything you need,” Davos said, putting his pen away. “And think about that holiday.”

Stannis grunted. He was busily adding his own signature to the document Davos had just finished signing.

When Davos was gone and the ink was dry, Stannis leant back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Sansa’s behaviour at the party? His stomach clenched up oddly, and his breathing quickened as he relived the memory again.

_“I wanted to make it clear that I’m with you.”_

Somehow it didn’t seem quite real. Nothing about being with Sansa felt entirely real. It was more like a dream… or a very vivid fantasy. He wondered whether that would change in Winterfell. He’d met some of the Starks before, but never as Sansa’s significant other. Would meeting her family alter their relationship? Would she see him through their eyes and decide that he wasn’t right for her?

Too old? Not good enough?

The screensaver was back, and Stannis moved the mouse jerkily, irritated with himself.

Thinking about it wouldn’t change anything. He’d just have to wait and see.

***

Sansa loved kissing Stannis. Every time they kissed she could feel the tension that always seemed to linger in his jaw and shoulders drain away, turning him to butter. It was a rush to know she could have such an effect on him, and it usually had her turning a little buttery too.

It was Friday, and Sansa was looking forward to lazy weekend with Stannis. A week from now they’d be heading for Winterfell, and she had convinced Stannis that it was important for them to stay in, relax, and charge their batteries for their upcoming trip. Shireen would be spending some time with them too, but for most of Saturday she was planning on going to the beach with Ned and a few other friends from school. (Sansa had helped Shireen shop for a new bathing suit for the occasion, and Shireen had found a lovely two-piece that she was very excited to show off.)

Sansa hoped she’d be able to convince Stannis to take advantage of the privacy and just stay in bed the whole day.

“What are you thinking about?” Stannis murmured, pulling back from their kiss. “You seem distracted.”

She kissed his cheek apologetically. “Sorry, I’m just thinking about tomorrow.”

He shifted beneath her, pulling on her thigh to hoist her up. “Anything in particular?”

Wondering whether she should suggest they move to the sofa, Sansa shook her head. “Not really. Just looking forward to relaxing with you.”

Stannis snorted. “You’re on summer vacation. Aren’t you relaxing every day?”

“Hey!” She shifted deliberately on his lap, causing him to inhale sharply. “I’ll have you know that Jeyne and I are keeping very busy while you’re at work. We’ve been volunteering at The King’s Landing Environmental Society, and helping them organise a beach clean-up.”

“Oh, yes,” Stannis said. “You’d mentioned.” He glanced towards the sofa, and Sansa suspected he too was thinking about moving from the desk chair to a more comfortable seat. “It’s not the beach Shireen is going to tomorrow?”

“No, a different one. Don’t worry, I’m sure Shireen is going to a lovely, clean beach.”

“Hm.” Stannis’ eyes were fixed on her lips.

Sansa didn’t wait for him to act on his obvious desire. She kissed him, enjoying the little sound he made when she licked the seam of his lips. He opened his mouth almost at once, and she lost herself in the sensation of tongue against tongue, the taste of him, the feel of his hands roaming all over her back before his fingers found their way to the back of her head, burying themselves in her hair.

 _We really should have moved to the sofa,_ she thought, shifting on his lap and trying to rub herself against the rapidly hardening bulge beneath her. _... Or the bedroom._

“Pardon the intrusion, sir,” a quiet voice said, causing Sansa to freeze mid-kiss. Stannis’ hands went still, too.

“Cressen,” Stannis said, sounding strained. “What is it?”

“Dinner is just about ready.” Cressen paused. “...Shall I have it delayed?”

Stannis cleared his throat. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll join Shireen in the dining room in a few minutes.”

Sansa still hadn’t looked around to face Cressen. Her heart was beating too fast, and her face felt like it had been lit on fire. _Why didn’t he knock?_ She could still feel Stannis’ erection pressing insistently against her. She tried to shift away, but Stannis tightened his hold on her, making it impossible.

“As you say, sir.”

Sansa heard Cressen retreat and close the study door.

She immediately buried her face in the crook of Stannis’ neck, and let out an embarrassed squeak.

Stannis didn’t say anything, but she felt something twitch beneath her. He was still holding her very tightly, and his breathing seemed overly controlled.

She chanced a glance at him. What she saw caused her insides to clench up and tingle. Stannis’ eyes had gone very dark, and though his skin was flushed, he did not look embarrassed in the least. 

He looked hungry.

“I guess we should go down to dinner?” Sansa said, her voice coming out breathless.

Stannis didn’t answer her. He kissed her instead, his hands on the move once more, seemingly trying to grope every inch of her he could reach. And then he was standing up from his desk chair, forcing her to get to her feet too. In seconds she was trapped between his body and the desk, his erection digging into her hip and his tongue sliding between her lips.

“We _can’t,_ ” she panted when he finally released her mouth and moved down to her neck. His hands were busy pushing her skirt up and dragging her panties down. “Dinner’s almost ready...” Her heart started to race in earnest when Stannis’ hands went to his belt. He still hadn’t said a word. “Stannis?” she asked, bracing herself on the desk, her knees suddenly feeling too weak to hold her up properly.

As if he knew she could barely stand, he helped her sit on the desk and stepped into the space between her thighs. “Stannis -” 

“Ssh,” he said, kissing her full on the mouth and probing between her thighs with his fingers. She blushed when she felt how easily they slipped inside, and bit back a moan. Before she had a chance to process the sensation of his fingers inside of her, he had retracted them and replaced them with the head of his cock.

All the air left her lungs at once when he pushed forward, his fingers like iron on her thighs, digging into her and anchoring her in place as he filled her. It was different angle than what she was used to, and the feeling of being stretched and invaded was almost too intense. If she could have spoken, she might have asked him to slow down. But she was having trouble breathing, and he was already moving his hips, the thrusts short and sharp.

He moved one hand to her back, hugging her close. His mouth ended up right next to one of her ears, and she could hear every breath, ragged and fast. She couldn’t let go of the desk, but she wrapped her legs around him to return the hug, and gasped at the way the angle changed.

“ _Fuck -_ ”

Sansa felt something inside her melt and pulse at the sound of him swearing, and she moaned when he sped up, the force of his thrusts causing a few pens and a coin that probably cost more than some people’s cars to roll off the desk and clatter to the floor. All the minor discomforts of sitting on a hard desk, Stannis’ bruising grip on her thigh, and the relatively rough way he was taking her fled Sansa’s mind. She was _so close._

“Faster, please,” she whined, squeezing him with her thighs in an effort to spur him on.

And as if he lived to frustrate her, his response was to pry her legs off him and pull out of her.

She was about to protest this injustice when he tugged, making her stand. Her knees only had a second to feel like jelly before he spun her around. She understood immediately, and bent over the desk, feeling immensely relieved that he couldn’t see her face. She was sure she had just turned bright red.

She forgot her embarrassment when she felt his cock enter her again from behind, a flood of spine-tingling pleasure erasing everything but the fact that she _loved this._

If she thought he had been going fast before, it was nothing to the pace he was setting now. She tried to keep quiet, but she was nearly there and he was hitting those places inside her that made her want to scream with every thrust.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she said, breathless and feeling as if every muscle in her body was coiled, ready to spring into action.

He grunted and grabbed onto her hips with both hands, fucking her so hard now that her teeth rattled.

The release was a blend of pain and pleasure when it finally came, feeling nearly like a cramp as she clenched up and squealed. Vaguely, she was aware that Stannis was coming, too. He was panting, and his rhythm was gone.

She felt him pull out of her again, and almost at once the mess they’d made started to make its way down the inside of one thigh.

Sansa heard a zipper, and then the clink of a belt buckle. “Come on, we need to go downstairs.” Stannis’ voice sounded almost back to normal.

She made an incoherent noise, not really feeling able to move off the desk, much less get herself downstairs.

“Here.” He helped her up, and pulled her skirt back down to cover her. Aside from a slight glow of exertion, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of a business meeting.

Sluggishly, she looked around for her panties. They were on the floor, but Sansa wasn’t sure she’d be able to get up again if she bent down to retrieve them. Thankfully, Stannis came to her rescue.

“... Perhaps you should freshen up before you join us in the dining room,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her as he handed her her underwear. He looked concerned. “But I should really go so that Shireen doesn’t worry.” He turned and started to head for the door.

“Wait,” Sansa said, touching his arm. “Aren’t you going to tell me what this was all about?”

A pink tinge appeared on his face. “We really shouldn’t keep Shireen waiting much longer.” He gave her a quick kiss, and then he was gone.

Sansa took a deep breath. She needed to hurry.

***

Stannis watched Sansa get ready for bed, wondering whether she would ask him about... _before_ now that he was no longer able to use Shireen as a shield.

He did what he could to delay things, but there was only so long a man could keep brushing his teeth.

“What is it?” Sansa said once they were in bed, the bedside lamps still on. She looked beautiful in the soft light, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. “You’re staring at me.”

He cleared his throat. “Am I?”

“A little.” Her voice was soft, and a small smile was tugging at her lips. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

He rubbed his eyelids, trying to rid himself of the flashback he was suddenly having of what had happened in his study before dinner. A hot pulse of lust shot through him. He tried to keep still and silent, but he could feel his face warming.

Nothing like that had ever come over him before.

“No,” he said, tensing up. Would she accept that he didn’t want to talk about it?

His mind flashed again to the moment when Cressen had walked into his study. He’d seen Sansa sitting on his lap. Seen them kissing. The old man hadn’t missed a beat, but Stannis’ heart had stopped for a moment. And then it had gone into overdrive.

He had been thinking about it all through the evening, and he had connected the dots. What he had experienced when Cressen had seen them had been a lot like what he had experienced in that moment at the party, when Sansa had been touching him in front of Mayor Marbrand. Except it had felt more intense. And instead of being mildly aroused and embarrassed, he had been… well. Not embarrassed.

“You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” Sansa said quietly, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” he said, fighting the urge to avoid her gaze. He wasn’t ready to talk about this.

She met his eyes, searching. 

He held his breath.

Her gaze softened. Her eyes darted down to his lips and back up. She gave him a small smile, and then - before he could so much as try to return it - she was kissing him.

Relieved, he threw himself into kissing her back, pleased to find that she was just as responsive as always. She didn’t seem put off by his inability to explain himself to her. A drawn out moan told him that she was actually as far from being put off as it was possible to be.

He started to stroke her arms, her shoulders, and her neck, his fingers already following the plan of action he was still in the process of thinking up. He’d rushed things in his study, but now he intended to take his time. Treat her properly. 

Slowly, he made his way down her body, enjoying the way she writhed and sighed. 

He wanted to play with her nipples, but he held himself back. Teasing the soft skin around, above and below them had her whimpering and jutting her chest out, trying to chase his fingers. He clenched his jaw and breathed slowly through his nose. She was making it difficult to resist, but he was used to going without the things he wanted the most. He could be patient.

Stannis kissed a trail from between her breasts down her abdomen and to her thighs, intentionally giving her neat little patch of pubic hair a wide berth.

“Stannis,” Sansa whined, widening the gap between her thighs pointedly.

He accepted her implied invitation and started to kiss and massage the insides of her thighs, enjoying the way she quivered. The scent of her was growing more intense, beckoning him.

_Wait._

He moved down to her knees, kissing the back of them, knowing that she liked the scratchy feel of his five o’clock shadow against the sensitive skin there. He kissed and stroked her calves, enjoying the way she kept tensing up, her calf muscles bunching up beneath his lips.

“ _Stannis,_ ” the whine in her voice was more pronounced now, edged with desperate impatience.

He started to kiss his way back up to her thighs, making sure his progress was torturously slow. By the time he was licking the insides of her thighs, he could hear her panting.

Finally, he gave her a gentle tap - right where she wanted his touch the most. “Open.”

Sansa made a sound that was a cross between a stifled sob and a moan as she parted her thighs much more, giving him all the access he’d need.

The next sounds she made were incoherent.


	23. Experiments

Stannis recognised the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach; he was nervous. Nervous like he hadn’t been in years.

“Are you all right? You look pale.” Sansa’s voice was concerned, and there was a little crease between her eyebrows. Stannis was struck by the momentary urge to smooth it out with his thumb, but he restrained himself.

“I’m fine.”

“Ready to go in, then?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded sharply. He couldn’t continue to sit behind the wheel like some absurd statue. Feeling as if he were moving through molasses, he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of the car. (If he took a few deep breaths as he did this, no one needed to know.)

Sansa walked up to him and wrapped herself around his right arm with a smile. “Let’s just leave our bags in the trunk, we can get them once we finish saying hello to everyone.” 

His heart sped up. He’d been hoping to buy himself a few additional minutes on account of their luggage. “All right.” Was it just him, or was it getting hotter? He glanced at the sky. It was overcast and looked like it might rain. Probably just him, then.

A blink of an eye later, the front door of the Stark’s manor house (built in a larger, rougher style than his own, he noted) was swinging open.

“Sansa!”

“Rickon!”

Stannis stood very still while Sansa and Rickon, who looked taller than any ten year old had a right to be, hugged each other tightly.

“Are Mum and Dad in?”

“Yeah, everyone’s here. Mum’s got us on wedding favour duty.”

“Let me guess,” Sansa said, pursing her lips, “they’re more personal if the family assembles them by hand?” 

“Yeah,” Rickon sighed. “Something like that.”

Sansa smiled and shook her head. She glanced at him. “Rickon, this is Stannis. Stannis, this is my baby brother, Rickon.”

Rickon made a face when Sansa described him as her baby brother, but didn’t challenge the term. Rickon’s grip was surprisingly firm as they shook hands. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to our home,” the boy said, reciting the words with the enthusiasm of a child who’d had manners drilled into him.

“Likewise, thank you,” Stannis returned, fully aware that his words sounded just as mechanical as the boy’s did.

Sansa was still smiling, her eyes full of amusement.

Rickon led them into a large drawing room where a number of people sat around a long, mahogany table. Stannis recognised all of them. Ned and Cat he had met before, and the rest he had seen in photographs. Sansa’s older brother, Robb Stark; the bride, Jeyne Westerling; Sansa’s cousin, Jon Snow; and Sansa’s remaining siblings: Arya and Brandon Stark were all looking curiously at him, their hands stilling. The table was covered in boxes that clearly needed to be assembled, and a pile of what looked like artisanal chocolates. On one end of the table Stannis could see the finished product: a tasteful, closed box that nonetheless provided a glimpse of the chocolate within.

“Darling!” Catelyn Stark was the first to speak. She rose gracefully from her seat at the table and swept over to give her daughter a kiss on each cheek. “Let me look at you! What a lovely dress!”

Stannis barely heard the rest of what Catelyn said. Ned had caught his gaze, and Stannis was concentrating on keeping calm. The man’s face wasn’t easy to read - as Stannis recalled, he tended to wear a careworn, brooding expression no matter what the situation was - but it certainly didn’t seem particularly friendly.

“I’m so sorry, where are my manners? Welcome to Winterfell, Mr. Baratheon,” Catelyn said, turning to shake his hand. “Sansa’s spoken of nothing but you for the past few months. It’s lovely to meet you again.”

Stannis tore his eyes off the still-seated Ned and looked at Catelyn instead. She was smiling, and it was disconcerting to see Sansa’s smile directed at him from a face that was so different and yet so similar. Catelyn’s eyes were just like Sansa’s too, though they were missing a certain light that was usually present when Sansa smiled at him. “Thank you, Mrs. Stark. Likewise.” He tried to sound less mechanical this time, but he wasn’t certain he managed it.

Sansa took a step forward and smoothly introduced her siblings and Jeyne Westerling to him. They waved at him or nodded from their seats.

“Is your luggage still in the car?” Catelyn asked when the introductions were through, her eyes sweeping over Stannis and Sansa. Without pausing to wait for a reply she turned her head towards the table. “Robb, Jon. Go fetch their bags. Take them to the blue room.”

Robb and Jon rolled their eyes, but stood up and left without giving Stannis a chance to protest, though they did both peck Sansa quickly on the cheek as they walked past.

“The blue room?” Sansa said, giving her mother a look Stannis couldn’t interpret. He heard Sansa say something about her old bedroom, but he was looking at Ned again, and not paying close attention. Ned had risen from his seat and approached the three of them. His expression was still closed and unreadable.

“It’s been a while,” Ned said, extending a hand.

Stannis shook it. Ned’s grip was just as firm as Stannis recalled, but the hostile look in his eyes was new. “It has,” he agreed, at a loss for what else to say. The uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified. Sansa was now walking around the table, giving and receiving more pecks and hugs, but Stannis could see that the bride to be, Arya, Brandon and Rickon were all sneaking glances at him and Ned.

“How’s Robert?”

“Fine.” Stannis paused, his brain sluggishly reminding him of the social niceties that were expected of him. “He asked me to send his regards. He also sent a wedding gift, I believe.”

Ned gave a barely perceptible nod. The silence that followed was decidedly frosty.

Thankfully, Sansa returned quickly to his side. “Shall we go to our room and get settled?” she asked, squeezing his arm lightly.

“Yes.” _Please._

“Dinner’s at six,” Catelyn said, smiling at them both.

There was a moment of silence while he and Sansa made their way out of the living room, Sansa leading the way, but as soon as they were out of hearing range, Stannis blew out a breath that sounded louder than he intended.

“Everything okay?” The crease between Sansa’s eyebrows was back.

He hesitated. He wasn’t certain that this was the right time to discuss Ned’s reaction to him. But then, when would the right time come along? Better to just get it over with. “Your father doesn’t approve of our relationship.” 

Sansa came to a halt and blinked at him for a moment. “Oh?”

“Well, he didn’t say it, but I’m fairly certain.”

She started walked again and he followed, not paying attention to where they were going. “Give him some time,” she said, twining her fingers with his and squeezing his hand. “I’m sure he’ll be all right.” A soft sigh followed her words.

Stannis didn’t like the sound of that sigh.

They walked in silence until Sansa stopped in front of a door. “This is us,” she said, smiling briefly, her eyes downcast.

The room wasn’t all blue. But there were powder blue accents here and there. Mostly it just looked like a guest room. There was a large bed, a closet, a dresser, and a vanity. The walls boasted a couple of paintings that looked expensive while also being bland and inoffensive. The window overlooked a part of the grounds Stannis hadn’t seen, but it was getting dark outside so he couldn’t make out a lot of details. Mostly he could see trees.

“Sansa -” Stannis began the sentence without knowing how he meant to end it, but as soon as Sansa turned to look at him, her eyes somehow much bigger than they usually were and her lips parted, he forgot that he was trying to say anything at all.

“Yes?” She walked right up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body flush against his.

He had absolutely no idea what to say to fix the sad look in Sansa’s eyes, but he could tell that she wanted him to kiss her. 

Her mouth was needy and eager, and Stannis was reminded of some of their earliest kisses: wet and utterly unconcerned with chafing. She moaned into his mouth and pressed her chest more firmly against his. He’d be hard in a minute if she kept this up.

“Oy, that’s my sister you’re defiling,” an amused voice said, drifting over from the general direction of the door.

Stannis suppressed a groan. His heart was still racing, his muscles coiled with anticipation and his blood hot. It surged in his veins now, and Stannis wasn’t sure whether it was due to annoyance or lust. _Or something else._

Sansa immediately broke the kiss and turned her head towards her brother, but she didn’t attempt to take a step back from him.

“You took your time,” Sansa said archly.

Robb laughed and dropped the bag he was carrying at the foot of the bed with a thump. Jon followed quietly, his cheeks pink and his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. The bag he carried, Sansa’s, was lowered gently to the floor.

“You know what Mum’s like. She’s a slave driver. Jon and I had to take the opportunity to stretch our legs a little.”

“Well, go and stretch them somewhere else,” Sansa said, her tone impatient.

“Not until I see you two make room for the maiden,” Robb said, his voice taking on an artificial preaching quality. “Honestly, have you no shame? I thought you were a lady.” 

Stannis tightened his hold on Sansa. He had no intention of letting her ‘make room for the maiden’. 

Robb had the gall to grin at them. “Just look, you’ve shocked Jon to his very core! He’s clearly been struck dumb by your wanton display.”

“Get out of it,” Jon muttered, his face turning redder. He was keeping his eyes averted for the most part, but Stannis could see him steal frequent short glances at the place where Stannis’ hands were resting on Sansa’s hips, a frown tugging at his lips.

_Overprotective? Or jealous?_

Stannis inhaled slowly and tried to will his heart to slow down. Jon was Sansa’s _cousin._

Still grinning, Robb took a step forward and extended a hand towards Stannis. He tried not to scowl as he was forced to let go of Sansa to shake it. She turned slightly, adjusting their position to something more appropriate. 

“You know, Jon and I have a professor that never shuts up about your company,” Robb said conversationally. “The way it rose from the ashes after that fiasco with the previous management. The way he tells it, your brother is some sort of genius…”

Stannis clenched his teeth. During the brief period of time when Robert had been in charge of things, before Stannis had managed to take the reins, he had nearly ruined the company. Thankfully, though Robert was completely inept when it came to finances, he had managed not to burn any bridges or lose any important business associates. Everyone liked Robert. Even professors that taught at universities this far north, apparently.

“... and Jon’s actually writing a mock business proposal where your company features heavily, along with several small companies here in the north. Was it a series of mergers you were thinking about, Jon? I can never remember...”

Stannis looked at Jon as Robb continued to chat away, seeing him in a new light. Jon met his eyes squarely, no longer appearing as flustered as before.

_Interesting._

“Robb, I’m sure that’s all fascinating, but could you please let us unpack?” Sansa’s voice was sweet, but there was an undercurrent of something decidedly sharp. “We just had a really long drive. I’m sure you three can talk business later.”

Robb showed his palms. “Fine, fine.” He paused and met Stannis’ eyes, raising a brow. “Before I go though, I should mention that Dad’s been known to hunt deer. So…” Robb paused again, presumably for dramatic effect. “He has a gun.”

Sansa’s made an indignant sound under her breath. “Robb!”

Robb laughed and left the room. Jon stayed for a second longer, his brow furrowed. He opened his mouth, but caught a glimpse of Sansa and closed it again. “Uh, see you at dinner,” he said before hurrying after Robb, closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry about them,” Sansa said, turning her body back to embrace him. She sighed and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

Stannis kept silent and still. His blood was still simmering. The idea of Ned with a hunting rifle ought to have helped with that, but his body seemed appallingly unconcerned. His skin tingled where Sansa was pressed against him.

Sansa rubbed herself slowly against him, looking up. “Where were we?” She lifted her chin and one eyebrow, but the daring look was somewhat undermined by the blush that was spreading up from her neck to her cheeks.

Not in the mood to say anything, Stannis quickly claimed her lips, picking up where they had left off before Robb and Jon had interrupted them. Sansa gave a muffled giggle that went straight to his groin, and he decided that they really needed to be closer to the bed. Sansa stumbled when he took a step forward, but regained her balance almost at once and followed his lead as if he were asking her to dance a particularly rushed and single-minded tango.

The bed smelled foreign and the mattress was too soft, but Stannis didn’t care. Sansa was letting his hand wander up the skirt of her dress, parting her thighs without complaint. For a moment he relished groping the soft insides of her thighs.

“Stannis,” she moaned, spreading her thighs more widely.

If he could have hardened further, he would have. Instead he simply found the lace band of her panties and pulled. Sansa’s hands were tugging on his clothes in turn, but she wasn’t having much success undressing him. _Later,_ he thought distractedly, throwing the panties over his shoulder and moving down to stick his head beneath her skirt.

“Oh!”

She was already quite wet, and tasted sharp with arousal. Her thighs quivered as he gave her several long licks in succession.

“Please, please,” she whined, angling her hips to bring her clit closer to his mouth.

He gave her what she wanted, enjoying the gratifying moans she produced.

Once he had her squealing and squeezing his head with her thighs, he moved away firmly, not licking her through the aftershocks as he sometimes did. He knelt on the bed, unbuttoning his jacket and shirt while Sansa watched him with half-lidded eyes. 

“Did you like that?” he asked as he moved onto his belt.

Sansa bit her lip and nodded, eyes fixed on his hands. “Did you?”

He gave her a look that he hoped would answer her question sufficiently, and she smiled.

“Did you…” She trailed off and bit her lip. “Did you notice how Jon was blushing before?” she finished, her tone a little _too_ nonchalant, her head tilting to the side as he got off the bed to finish ridding himself of his trousers, shoes and socks. “When he and Robb saw us kissing?”

He climbed back in with her and kissed her more aggressively than he’d meant to, his heart pounding. “Yes.”

Sansa stroked him through his boxer briefs and tugged on the waistband. She seemed to be deciding whether to say something else. “What do you think he’d do if he could see us now?” she whispered quickly.

Lust tugged sharply at his nerve endings, making his hips twitch in response. “Run, if he knew what was good for him,” he said, his voice coming out in a surprisingly guttural way.

“Oh, but what if we didn’t know he was there?” Sansa asked, licking her lips and moaning as he divested himself of his underwear and pinned her down, his patience wearing thin.

He saw red for a moment, and felt as if he could hear his own blood rushing hotly to his groin. “Sansa,” he bit out, grunting as he pushed into her, filling her with one swift thrust of his hips. She was wet and warm, the friction along his length maddening.

She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back with a hiss that sounded a little like _yes._

He started to move, drawing back almost completely before thrusting back in. Hard. He did it again and again, enjoying the sounds of their bodies meeting and the sound of her moans. But no matter how hard he took her, he couldn’t shake the idea she had planted: the thought of her cousin watching them in secret.

He found himself glancing to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the mirror above the dresser. He saw a little movement, the top of his head maybe, but not much else. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face warming disproportionately. He could imagine what the reflection would show if the mirror were positioned properly a little too well. Him naked on top of a nearly fully dressed Sansa, her skirt only pushed up and out of the way.

As his climax approached, the images faded from his imagination, replaced with a jumble of raw emotions he couldn’t define. They rose up within his chest, clawing their way out of his throat even as his rose to his knees to gain additional leverage. The sounds he was making were animalistic, a primal thought surging up through his mind from the depths of his reptile brain. 

_Mine._

Sansa was clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. Her moans were getting louder, and now she was crying out, her voice breaking every time he slammed into her.

The familiar tightening of his balls gave him a split-second warning, but he didn’t stop. Just drove himself in deep and groaned into Sansa’s ear as he came, the relief of it blinding him for a moment.

It took a while for his breathing to return to normal. His limbs were heavy and unwieldy, so once he managed to roll to the side, he kept still. Sansa curled her body around his, the fabric of her skirt bundled up between them.

“We should probably get cleaned up,” Sansa said after an indeterminable length of time, her voice laced with satisfaction.

He grunted. She was probably right, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His stomach felt oddly tight now that the cloud of lust had cleared away, and the more he thought about what had just happened… what Sansa had said… the harder his heart started to beat. Not in a pleasant way. 

_Does she know?_

He wanted to ask her. But asking would lead to a… discussion.

“Do you want to shower together?” Sansa asked, stroking his cheek and encouraging him to face her again. Her eyes held no accusation. She seemed perfectly serene.

His heart slowed. “Yes,” he said. He was already warming to the idea of seeing Sansa’s hair all wet, plastered to her back. And he liked the way her shampoo smelled, and the way the suds looked running down and over her curves.

There would be time to discuss things later.


	24. Appropriate Partners

Sansa wasn’t sure how she made it through dinner without giving something away. She could barely look at Jon, and whenever he so much as spoke, her face caught on fire.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to experiment with Stannis’ reaction to the possibility of someone watching them. She’d been wanting to, ever since that time when Cressen had walked in on them kissing. But the reaction had been much more exciting than she had really dared hope, and her body kept melting due to the flashbacks. Stannis had made noises she had never heard before: wild and rough and _utterly_ sexy.

_Maybe I should have waited until we’re not in Winterfell anymore._

She glanced quickly at her mother, and after taking a subtle deep breath, at her father. Mother met her eyes af she sensed Sansa looking, smiling at her from the other side of the table, but her father was looking resolutely at his plate. If he sensed her gaze, he gave no outward sign.

Sansa’s stomach sank even more than it had when she and Stannis had first arrived. It wasn’t that she had expected her father to suddenly start hugging her willy-nilly. His hugs had always been rare. But she had been away for a long time, and she’d hoped… maybe… 

She shook her head and looked down at the tablecloth, trying to think of nothing but the beautifully embroidered pattern of trout and all sorts of fish jumping out of water. It was one of her mother’s favourite tablecloths, Sansa knew. An heirloom from Riverrun only used for special occasions.

Her father was probably just getting used to the idea of Stannis.

 _But what if he never approves?_ Her heart sank right along with her stomach, and she had to close her eyes for a moment.

Sansa took another subtle deep breath. She didn’t want to think about this. She hadn’t wanted to think about it when she’d been leading Stannis to their room, either.

Under the table, she touched Stannis’ thigh. He gave her a sidelong glance but showed no other sign of having noticed. Emboldened, she squeezed gently. 

He swallowed, and the tips of his ears reddened.

A rush of affection for him warmed her from within, and the tightness in her chest eased. For a whole minute she felt almost normal, but then Jon spoke, and she felt her face flame up all over again.

When the time came to leave the dining room and seek out the more comfortable seats in the west drawing room, Sansa was still too enmeshed in her complicated mix of emotion to notice how certain members of her family used the opportunity to separate her from Stannis.

“What is going on with you?” Robb asked in a low voice, the affable older brother act gone. He was all concern, now. “Are you serious about this?”

Sansa frowned. Robb, Jon and Arya were all looking at her, clearly expecting her to explain herself.

“Of course I’m serious about Stannis,” she said slowly, tearing her eyes away from Arya’s raised eyebrows to look at Robb. “I wouldn’t bring some random fling home to meet Mum and Dad, would I?”

“Why not? I did.” Robb grinned for a second, his eyes lighting up.

Sansa shook her head. “Don’t let Jayne hear you talk like that.” The admonishment came to her lips automatically, but she knew there was no need for her to scold Robb. For all his jokes, he loved and respected Jayne.

“He didn’t smile even once, Sansa. All through dinner,” Arya said, crossing her arms.

Sansa glared at her sister. “Would you smile in his shoes? With you lot judging his every facial expression?”

A look of dismay flashed across Arya’s face before a stubborn one replaced it. “We’re not judging. Just making sure he’s treating you right.”

“How is that not judging?”

“Just because _you_ judge everyone -”

“Girls,” Jon said, cutting Arya off, a furrow appearing between his brows. “The others will hear you.”

Sansa took a deep breath. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice. How was it that Arya always managed to bring out the worst in her?

“Just tell us one thing,” Robb said, reaching out to touch Sansa’s shoulder. “Are you happy?”

Meeting his eyes unflinchingly, Sansa took a moment before she spoke. She wanted Robb to see that she was taking his question seriously. “I’ve never been happier.”

Robb searched her eyes in silence. “All right.” He gave her a small smile and a nod, and before she knew it, he was hugging her.

Sansa inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, her heart expanding, and her breathing suddenly much easier.

Arya gave her a one-armed half hug right after, grumbling something about how “he’d better not hurt you,” and Sansa giggled, her annoyance with her sister vanishing like the morning mists. Jon didn’t make a move to hug her, but they did exchange awkward glances that started Sansa’s blood rushing to her face again. Honestly, what had she been thinking earlier? Would she ever be able to look at Jon again without getting embarrassed?

There was a tense silence in the drawing room when the four of them arrived, broken only by Bran and Rickon’s quiet conversation in a secluded corner of the room. Their heads were bent over a magazine, which Sansa barely had time to notice was something science related before her full attention was taken up by the scene around the coffee table.

Jeyne’s smile was frozen, and as soon as she saw Robb her shoulder seemed to slump with relief. Sansa’s mother had pursed her lips, and was aiming a disapproving look at her father. Her father and Stannis seemed to be engaged in a silent staring contest with each other, however, so the disapproving look was not reaching its intended target.

“Who died?” Robb said, plopping himself down on the sofa next to Jeyne.

“Don’t be glib,” Sansa’s mother said, the disapproving look now directed at him.

Sansa hurried to sit next to Stannis and cast around for a harmless topic of conversation. She seized on the first thing she thought of. “Dad, are you giving a speech at the wedding?”

Robb groaned. “Please don’t.”

Sansa’s mother looked highly offended. “Robb!”

“It’s traditional,” Sansa’s father said, shifting his gaze away from Stannis and considering Sansa instead. Looking properly at her for what seemed like the first time since she and Stannis arrived.

She straightened her back and ignored the way her heart jumped. “Have you decided what you’re going to say?”

Everyone looked at Sansa’s father.

He sat still, his expression not giving much away. “I suppose I will congratulate the happy couple,” he began, looking over at Robb and Jeyne. Jeyne ducked her head to hide a blush while Robb grinned. “They’re lucky to have found good partners in each other. Appropriate partners.”

Sansa’s insides froze, and she had to work very hard to keep her face from falling. She could feel Stannis tense up beside her, but she also noticed her mother’s lips thinning.

“Yes, you know me,” Robb said, chuckling, “I went out and picked the most appropriate girl I could find.”

Sansa’s mother’s lips thinned further. Another tense silence descended.

She could barely breathe with her lungs full of ice.

“Mr. Baratheon, could I pick your brain about something? It’s about the proposal I’m writing. The one Robb mentioned earlier,” Jon said, breaking the silence and saving the atmosphere from becoming completely hostile.

“Certainly.” Stannis stood up, and he and Jon settled themselves in a pair of armchairs on the other side of the drawing room.

Sansa stared after them for a little too long, wishing that Stannis wouldn’t leave her. When she finally tore her gaze away, her mother gave her a sympathetic look.

“Jeyne dear,” Catelyn said, shifting everyone’s attention towards the bride to be, “is there anything you need help with tonight?”

Jeyne looked startled for a moment. “Oh, no. The favours are done, and the staff are taking care of the menu cards, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” Sansa’s mother said.

Forcibly pushing her emotions into a dark corner and slamming a mental door on them, Sansa swallowed and made herself smile. “Have all the wedding preparations gone well, then?” she asked Jeyne. 

“It’s been a challenge,” Jeyne said, smiling modestly back. “We probably should have given ourselves a bit more time to plan.”

“Nonsense, ten months are plenty of time,” Sansa’s mother interjected. “Ned and I only had three months to plan.”

Soon the drawing room was abuzz with three or four different conversations, the tense silence of before temporarily forgotten.

Jeyne yawned some twenty minutes later, however, and claimed to need her beauty rest. A fresh silence descended after she and Robb said their good-nights. (Though Jeyne made sure to announce that they’d be sleeping in separate rooms to avoid bad luck.)

“So… anyone for Monopoly?” Arya asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stannis and Sansa’s father had identical reactions to the suggestion: they both stiffened up as if Arya had just offered them free entry into an iron maiden with a spot of waterboarding on the side.

Jon made an amused noise that turned into a cough.

Sansa shot a half-hearted glare at both Arya and her cousin. “I think Stannis and I should turn in early,” she said to Arya. “We had a long drive. You guys play, though.”

“I’m not playing that game with _her,_ ” Rickon piped up from his corner, the magazine thunking down on the table before him and Bran. “She always builds those hotels on Park Place and she’s mean when you land there.”

“Maybe _you’ll_ buy Park Place this time,” Arya said, fluttering her eyes innocently at Rickon. “It could happen.”

Sansa threw Stannis a significant look. He was quick to take a hint and rose to his feet.

“Sleep well,” Sansa’s mother said, her tone warm. “Lovely seeing you again, Stannis.”

Stannis nodded but said nothing.

“Good-night,” Sansa said, waving at her family. Most of them said good-night and waved in return, but she purposefully did not look to see whether her father did.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Sansa turned to Stannis and sighed. 

_You were right. Dad doesn’t approve._ She wanted to say it out loud, but found that she couldn’t. “I’m sorry I left you alone in there earlier. Robb cornered me.”

Stannis didn’t look particularly bothered. His stance had relaxed now that they were alone, and his expression was neutral. “I noticed. What did he want?”

“He decided to do the whole protective older brother routine and make sure I was happy with you.” Sansa glanced to the side. Stannis’ gaze was burning a hole through her as they walked slowly towards their room. Her face warmed, and something fluttered within her. “I told him I’ve never been happier.”

 _And I don’t care who does or doesn’t approve._

His jaw muscles moved, his Adam’s apple bobbing once. She thought he was about to speak for a second, but then he sped up, placing a hand on the small of her back to encourage her to walk faster, too.

As soon as they were over the threshold of their bedroom Stannis was kissing her, pressing her body against the door, causing it to click shut. His touch was everywhere: affectionate, passionate, and most definitely approving.

Sansa felt a warmth fill her chest that was almost _too much_ , and she threw herself into returning every kiss and every touch with complete abandon, trying to pour some of what she was feeling out through her lips and hands.

Later, when she was hoarse from crying out a little too enthusiastically, Sansa thought to herself that her mother had been quite wise to put her and Stannis in a part of the house that was a good distance from the family wing.

***

Jon didn’t know what to do. The pillow was not blocking out the _sounds._

 _Should I leave?_ he wondered, his insides squirming. Normally he was sure he’d be welcome in Robb’s room for a bit of a visit, but he was sure there were different rules on the night before someone’s wedding. Robb might not even be in his room. Jon certainly wasn’t in the room he usually stayed in. Instead he was in the guest wing. Right next to Stannis and Sansa.

A distinct, feminine moan rose in pitch and volume until it was almost a scream.

Jon’s face burned as he pulled his pillow more firmly over his ears. _Are they never going to stop?_

As if to mock him, Sansa’s voice only got louder, and a deeper, masculine voice joined in.

Jon turned over on the guest bed and wished he hadn’t left his iPod at home. For half a minute, Jon stayed where he was, his face smushed against the mattress, his pillow held securely over his head. But then he had to come up for air.

Sansa’s words about never having been happier were certainly starting to make sense. She sounded _very_ happy.

Jon squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about what they had looked like when he and Robb had brought them their luggage. The tight embrace. The deep, eat-me-alive kiss.

A groan made its way through the wall, and Jon nearly let out a groan of his own.

He had pretty much forgotten about the stupid crush he’d had on Sansa Stark when he’d been thirteen. Back before he realised thoughts of his cousin in a bikini weren’t appropriate wank material. He had moved on with his life. For fuck’s sake, he’d had a girlfriend for two years and never given Sansa more than a cursory thought. 

Seeing Sansa and Stannis today had triggered a flood of memories, however. Really fucking awkward memories.

A knocking noise reached Jon’s ears, and for a moment he thought someone was at the door. A second later he realised it was probably a different sort of knocking. The kind of knocking that happened when people banged so hard that the bed’s headboard slammed against the wall repeatedly.

His cock twitched at the mental image.

_Fuck._

He needed to think about something else. His business proposal? No. That would only lead to thinking about Stannis, which would lead right back to -

_”Oh, gods - oh gods, Stannis, please, don’t stop!”_

Jon gritted his teeth and tried once again to block out the noise with his pillow. This situation would be marginally easier to bear if he could dislike Stannis. But Jon had been researching Stannis’ company for months. The business proposal he was writing - his final project which he planned to work on for the whole of the next school year - focused on creating a realistic plan for a company like Baratheon Enterprises to invest in several small northern businesses, strengthening ties between the north and south, and ultimately benefiting everyone involved. The opportunity to pick Stannis’ brain about the idea had been absolutely priceless. Especially since Jon knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Stannis was the man behind BE’s success story. It was obvious if one bothered to read BE’s annual reports from the last decade or so.

Jon couldn’t hate the kind of man who had managed to single handedly steer a company the size of Baratheon fucking Enterprises away from financial ruin in a way that had many of Jon’s professors nearly coming in their pants. Even if he had the personality of a particularly prickly cactus.

_And far too much stamina for a guy his age._

Seriously, if they went on for much longer, Jon might develop a complex.

Almost as if they’d heard his thoughts, the knocking on the wall became positively frantic, and their voices reached a crescendo. Jon’s heart rate jumped, and he broke into a sweat. There was a particularly loud _thump_ , and then finally, _finally_ silence.

Jon held still for several seconds, hardly daring to believe that they had finished at last. When no further sounds reached his ears, Jon slowly lowered his pillow, and blew out a long breath. His heart was still racing uncomfortably, and every muscle in his body was tense.

Some minutes ticked by, Jon wasn’t sure how many. All he knew was that he was not falling asleep, and that it was entirely his cock’s fault. Well, maybe it was also his brain’s fault. It kept replaying the noises he’d just been hearing, no matter how hard he tried to think about Economics 101.

He weighed the pros and cons of just giving into his body’s demands and having a quick wank. On one hand, it might help him get to sleep, but on the other... it would make him a dirty pervert.

What sort of person got off at the thought of his cousin getting banged? And not just being banged, but being banged by a man Jon had been admiring in secret for _months._ When Jon had realised Sansa would be bringing Stannis to the wedding, he had actually become embarrassingly excited. But not _turned on_ excited.

_Probably._

Jon groaned into his pillow, wishing he could just fall asleep and forget he ever heard anything. Maybe he’d even be able to convince himself it had all been a terrible dream?

His erection was not going away, however.

 _Fuck it._ Maybe it made him a dirty pervert, but he was too tired to fight this. With a hiss of pleasure, he wrapped his fist around his cock, alleviating the pressure that had been screaming for attention. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, not even trying to stop himself from imagining the scene that must have been playing on the other side of the wall just minutes ago.

Would Stannis have been on top of Sansa? _Yes._ With the girls on top there was always more grinding and much less banging of headboards.

Jon’s imagination came up with a vivid image of Sansa on her back, her red hair fanned over her pillow, legs spread wide and Stannis plowing away, one hand on her thigh, one hand on the headboard for balance.

He pumped his fist up and down, his grip almost too tight, the friction edging close to pain. His hips wanted to move, but he held himself back from thrusting up.

_Maybe she was on all fours. Maybe she was holding onto the headboard, and maybe he was grabbing both of her hips, fucking her from behind..._

Jon bit his tongue to keep a noise from escaping. He could well remember how good it felt to fuck a girl like that, and the flashbacks and sense memories were flooding him with heat.

It didn’t take very long for him to finish. But as soon as he came down from the high of his climax, his stomach started to squirm. Doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable sensation, he went to take care of the mess, making sure to avoid his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Hopefully he’d be able to fall asleep quickly. And tomorrow he would be able to start pretending that tonight had never happened.


	25. Frustration

Sansa always cried at weddings, but seeing Robb and Jeyne, looking so beautiful and happy and in love, had her in veritable floods. Thankfully, she had thought to bring plenty of tissues.

“Are you all right?” Stannis whispered at one point, his brow furrowed.

“Happy tears,” she choked out, trying to wipe her face in a way that wouldn’t completely destroy her make-up.

Stannis didn’t say anything else, but after glancing furtively around, he slowly wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping the movement subtle.

Feeling her throat constrict, Sansa tried to be equally subtle about leaning into him, but she had no idea if she succeeded.

They were standing in a clearing, close to the heart tree where Robb and Jeyne were holding hands, getting ready to make their vows. The weather was mild and breezy, and the leaves were rustling pleasantly. The light fabric of Jeyne’s dress fluttered prettily too, gossamer threads catching the light. She looked like some ethereal being out of a song, and Robb looked utterly captivated by her.

Sansa could hear a few other guests sniffling. Even Arya’s eyes looked a little glassy with tears, and seeing it made Sansa cry harder.

Robb and Jeyne both said everything they were supposed to say, though Robb was almost too choked up to speak at one point, and soon everyone was kissing and hugging the newlyweds, wiping away stray tears, tripping over their own feet to get out of the photographer’s way, and finally heading back to the house. 

Sansa fell behind, reluctant to abandon the heart tree and the peace of the surrounding forest.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Stannis asked, matching her slow pace even though he usually walked three times as fast.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I just like it here. Seems a shame to leave so quickly.”

Stannis looked around, his expression thoughtful. He didn’t say anything, however.

“We should go, though. Before we’re missed.” She took a deep breath, the fresh air filling her lungs. “But would you mind coming up to our room for a minute before we join the reception? I have to fix my face.”

“Your face does not need to be fixed,” Stannis said, a frown tugging at his lips.

“You know I mean my mascara,” Sansa said, smiling and squeezing his hand at the same time, a wonderful warm sensation settling over her heart.

Inside the house, Sansa was surprised to notice that Jon left the crowd to follow them up the stairs.

“Did Robb ask you to chaperone us or something?” she asked.

Jon, who had been looking at his phone, seemed startled by her voice. His mouth fell open, but no words came out for several seconds. “Uh, no, I just - I need to get my charger.” A very strange expression passed over his face. “But I - I don’t think I need it anymore.” There was an awkward pause. “I’m going to - um - I’m going to go.” He turned on his heel and starting walking back towards the crowd.

Sansa shook her head. “Robb probably did send him,” he said, rolling her eyes at Stannis.

“You think your brother believes we require chaperoning?” Stannis said, raising a brow.

She shot him a coy smile. “Don’t we?”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything.

In their room, Sansa made quick work of fixing her mascara, her heart beating quickly the entire time. She could feel Stannis watching her, his gaze hot on her back.

“We should probably hurry back,” she said once she was done, fluttering her freshly made up eyelashes at him.

Stannis nodded tersely. He was looking at her like he’d rather stay right where they were.

As they walked towards the noise of the reception, they kept exchanging glances. Sansa’s heart was still pounding.

The noise of the crowd got louder and louder, and soon they’d be among the guests. They both paused before rounding the final corner, though neither of them spoke. They just looked at each other. Sansa’s lips parted of their own accord.

 _Should we?_ A guest might wander over at any moment and see them.

Stannis was staring at her lips, and she stopped thinking about it. She closed the gap between them and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. She felt him groan more than she heard it, the vibrations of the sound making her knees feel weak.

Maybe he felt her tremble, or maybe he just wanted to trap her in place, but he responded by pushing her back against the wall, pressing the full length of his body to her front.

Her heart raced as their kiss got wetter and dirtier, and she could hear blood rushing in her ears. If someone were to round the corner at this very moment…

_Would he like that? If we got caught like this?_

The high, pure sound of something metal clinking against fine crystal interrupted Sansa’s thought.

Their kiss broke, and they looked at one another.

Sansa knew they had to be quiet since all the guests were silent now, but it took all the strength she had not to giggle. Stannis looked dead serious, but he was also so _rumpled._

The sound of her mother welcoming the guests drifted from around the corner.

“Here,” she whispered, fixing his hair, his shirt collar and his tie, making sure to wipe a stray smear of lipstick off the corner of his mouth.

When she was sure that they were both presentable, they silently stepped around the corner and joined the crowd. 

“- Let us raise our glasses and toast the new husband and wife,” Sansa’s mother finished, raising her flute of Champagne.

Everyone raised their glasses - except Sansa and Stannis who hadn’t found the Champagne yet. No one noticed, however, since the guests were watching and laughing as Robb and Jeyne drank Champagne from each other’s flutes.

Dinner got off to a mostly uneventful start with a few speeches and announcements. Her father’s speech was very short, and very traditional. Sansa was relieved when he didn’t make any comments about how _appropriate_ Robb and Jeyne were for one another. She was also relieved that he didn’t seem interested in glowering at Stannis anymore. He didn’t seem interested in so much as glancing at him. Or her.

Sansa drained her glass of wine. _He’s just focusing on Robb tonight. As he should._

Theon had to be cut off in the middle of his speech since it was obvious that he had been about to tell some stories that would have shown Robb in a less than flattering light.

Sansa and Stannis were sitting with Arya, Jon, Bran and Rickon, while her parents sat with Robb, Jeyne, and Jeyne’s parents at the high table. Thankfully, Theon was placed with some of Robb’s other friends, so Sansa didn’t have to worry about keeping him from saying inappropriate things in front of Rickon. She _did_ have to deal with Arya, however. 

Arya spent the first courses making _highly_ amusing comments about how much Sansa enjoyed aged wines, and wondering loudly whether she liked smelly old cheeses, too. There was nothing truly _malicious_ in her tone, but Sansa still didn’t appreciate this sort of humour.

“How come you didn’t bring Gendry?” Sansa asked as they waited for the main course to arrive, wanting to shift Arya’s focus.

Arya shrugged. “I haven’t told Mum about him.”

“Oh?”

Arya made a face. “You know how she gets.”

“That’s no reason to hide your relationship,” Sansa said, frowning.

Arya just rolled her eyes.

“I think Mum would approve of Gendry,” Sansa pressed on. “He’s part Baratheon, after all. And he’s doing well for himself, isn’t he? Didn’t you tell me he just took over his own sword shop?”

“It’s not a sword shop! It’s a proper smithy! He doesn’t just sell swords, he actually makes them. And he makes loads of other things, too.” Arya shook her head as if to get rid of an irritating fly. “You and Mum are both the same,” she went on, toying with her dessert fork. “All you care about is whether someone has a good family name, and how rich they are.”

Sansa looked down at her lap, a sharp pain filling her chest.

Stannis reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it, causing her to look back up.

“I can assure you,” Stannis said, directing his words at Arya, “that your sister cares about a great number of other things.” His tone was icy.

“Says the rich guy with the fancy name.” Arya snapped back. She looked at Sansa. “Do you think Mum would put up with him if he weren’t a member of the snob brigade?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa said quietly, hoping to keep their conversation from attracting attention from the people sitting at the nearest tables. Bran and Rickon were already paying close attention to every word they exchanged, while Jon was staring at the menu card with a look of fierce concentration on his face. “But I had hoped you’d all just be happy for me.” She glanced at Stannis and gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand in return. “For us.”

Arya reddened slightly and looked down at the table, her dessert fork forgotten.

There was a tense silence.

“Do you think Gendry could make me a sword?” Rickon piped up.

“I don’t know, do you have two hundred gold dragons?” Arya said, determinedly not looking in Sansa’s direction.

Rickon’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Two hundred dragons!” He looked at Jon. “Jon, could you lend me some money?”

Jon put the menu card down. “Sorry, mate.” He shook his head. “I need every dragon I’ve got for tuition.”

“Does Gendry make fencing swords, then?” Bran asked, tilting his head to the side. “Is that how you met?”

“None of your business.” Arya’s tone was grumpy, but the red colour of her cheeks had deepened.

The main course finally arrived, grilled lamb, cutting the conversation short. For a while they just ate, and no one spoke except to compliment the food.

“Did you get a chance to think about my idea, Mr. Baratheon?” Jon asked when they’d all nearly finished their lamb.

“Yes,” Stannis said, taking a thoughtful sip of his red wine, “it has merit, though I’m not certain the arrangement will be equally profitable in both the north and the south.”

“Why not?”

“Southern products are very popular north of the neck, but many northern products are generally considered substandard in the south. Except for timber, but there are already profitable contracts in place for timber.”

“Yes, but that could change once southern people actually try the products and find out that there’s nothing wrong with them,” Jon argued, his brow furrowing. “Northern ale, northern wool, northern _metalwork_ -”

“You don’t have to pitch these things to me,” Stannis said firmly, cutting Jon off. “I have an interest in coins, and I’ve had my eye on obtaining some northern pieces for a while now. I know quality when I see it,” He gave her a quick glance, and Sansa saw a flash of heat in his eyes.

An answering surge of heat rose within her, and she looked down at her lap with a smile, trying to hide her blush.

“Well, are you accounting for all the northerners who live in the south and would love the opportunity to buy a taste of home? To surround themselves with objects that remind them of the north?” Jon continued, clearly up in arms.

Stannis furrowed his brow. “Do you think there are enough northmen living in the south for that sort of… “ he waved his hand, frowning, “... homesickness to have a significant impact?”

“Enough northmen?” Jon gave a short bark of laughter. “Nearly every northerner gets educated in the south, and nearly everyone with an advanced degree ends up staying in the south to find work. There just aren’t enough opportunities to for highly educated people here. But that could change if southern businesses actually invested in northern ones like I talked about last night.”

“Boring,” Arya interjected, pretending to snore. “We’re at a wedding, can we talk about something fun?”

Jon and Stannis both looked offended at that, though Jon’s expression was softened by a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

“And what would you like to talk about, kid?” Jon asked, draining the dregs from his glass.

“I’d like to make a bet,” Arya said, leaning forward and glancing at the high table.

“What sort of bet?”

“I bet Robb will disappear with Jeyne before midnight,” Arya said, an impish look on her face.

“I’ll take that bet,” Jon said at once. “There’s no way Jeyne will let Robb drag her away from her wedding reception that early. She’ll want to enjoy her time in the spotlight.”

“Five dragons?” Arya said, raising a brow.

“You’re on.”

Arya and Jon shook hands. As soon as Arya pulled her hand back, she grinned. “You’re going to be sorry. I’m telling you, Robb has been looking at Jeyne like a hungry wolf ever since he saw her in that dress. He’s not going to be able to keep it in his pants.”

A flash of uncertainty appeared in Jon’s eyes. For some reason, he then looked at Stannis for a second, his cheeks colouring.

Sansa looked at Stannis, too. He met her eyes calmly, and suddenly Sansa was very thankful that Arya hadn’t made any bets about how long she and Stannis would last before sneaking off to bed. Tendrils of heat crept through her veins, and her muscles tensed pleasantly with anticipation.

“Everything all right?” Stannis asked, leaning close to whisper the question in her ear.

She closed her eyes, a thrill running down her spine. “Mmmhm.”

“You seem flushed,” Stannis went on, his breath tickling her neck.

“Oh, it’s just a bit warm in here,” she said, her voice coming out breathless. An idea struck her as soon as she spoke. “Would you mind coming outside with me for a second? Just for a bit of fresh air?”

Stannis rose to his feet and helped her with her chair. 

“Where are you going?” Arya asked. “We still haven’t had dessert.”

“We’ll only be a moment. I just need some air.”

“If you’re not back before dessert gets here, I’m eating yours.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and glanced at Jon. He wouldn’t let Arya eat her dessert, would he? But Jon wouldn’t meet her eyes. He was staring down as if the tablecloth was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“I’m sure we’ll be back before dessert is served,” Stannis said, his mouth close to her ear, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “And you can have mine if yours disappears.”

“There’s going to be wedding cake, too,” Bran said evenly. “So even if you miss dessert, there’s still that.”

Sansa laughed, but the hand on her back had her thinking about a very different sort of dessert so she didn’t prolong the conversation.

The evening air was cool and refreshing, and carried with it the scent of fresh-cut grass, pine needles, and the fragrance of hundreds of decorative roses. Sansa didn’t really pause to smell them; she was too busy looking around for a bit of privacy. Stannis didn’t ask questions. He just followed where she led, his hand burning a hole through the fabric of her dress.

Once they were hidden behind the first suitably thick tree trunk Sansa came across, she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him full on the mouth. He widened his stance and embraced her in return, absorbing her momentum with a near-silent grunt.

She pressed the full length of her body against him, wishing that she could touch him everywhere at once. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to keep exploring his mouth with her tongue, or whether she wanted to press open-mouthed kisses all down his neck, or whether she wanted to beg him to kiss her neck instead. She could feel the way he was hardening beneath his belt, her blood singing at the heavy heat of him.

Gathering her courage, she touched his belt buckle and made eye contact, hoping that she wouldn’t have to spell her desire out for him.

“Sansa…” His voice was hoarse and regretful, and his grip on her waist suddenly turned to steel. 

“Please?” She kissed his pulse point, holding her breath.

“Here? Are you certain…?” Stannis said, his voice all gravel now.

Her hand wandered a short distance downwards from his belt, cupping him through his trousers. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “We can be quick, can’t we?”

Stannis stared at her, eyes black with desire, his hands gripping her so tightly that it almost hurt. He opened his mouth to speak.

A shrill laugh floated over, causing Stannis to immediately snap his mouth shut and them both to freeze.

“Someone’s coming this way,” Stannis said, his jaw muscles tensing. But he didn’t move away from her.

Sansa bit her lip. Her heart racing, she lifted her chin. “So?”

Stannis blinked at her, his mouth dropping open for a moment. “What do you -”

“Sansa! Is that you? What are you doing hiding behind a tree?” The loud voice of one of her Karstark cousins pierced the air like an off-key flute.

Sansa groaned internally, closing her eyes and letting her head slump forward. Her body was humming with unsatisfied arousal, and for a moment she considered just grabbing Stannis’, dragging him down to lie in the grass, and straddling him. To hell with anyone who might see them.

_You are a lady._

“I’m just getting some fresh air,” Sansa called back, “I’m going back inside in a minute.”

Thankfully her cousins seemed satisfied with her response. They kept walking.

“We’d better go,” Stannis said. His eyes were still dark, his jaw still clenched.

She bit her lip and nodded, a little comforted to know that she wasn’t the only frustrated one. But only a very little.


	26. Peeping Jon

Jon was trying to ignore them. It should have been easy. They were all the way over there, on the dance floor, and he was still sitting in his assigned seat, talking to Arya and Bran. Well, pretending to listen to Arya and Bran, really. He had no idea what they were talking about. He hadn’t been able to focus on them since Rickon had been ushered off to bed, and Stannis and Sansa had started to dance.

He hadn’t expected Stannis to be the sort of man who danced at weddings. It didn’t seem to fit. Except it did fit. _They_ fit. Just the way Robb and Jeyne fit together, looking young and beautiful and in love, matching wedding clothes and matching sappy expressions on their faces.

Jon took a swig of his beer. He needed to stop staring at the couples on the dance floor. It was probably somewhat creepy.

Theon would tell him to do what he was doing: find a single Westerling cousin and try to get lucky. But Jon had never been keen on one night stands. The berk who’d got his mother pregnant and left her high and dry - without even a name or a way to contact him - had been the type of guy who had one night stands.

Jon wasn’t going to risk putting any woman through that.

“Use a condom, you bloody martyr! And, I don’t know, make sure you always leave them your name and number,” was what Theon usually said when Jon tried to explain this.

“It’s the principle,” Jon would usually mutter in return.

Maybe he’d feel differently if his mother hadn’t died from the complications of giving birth to him.

“They look happy,” Bran said in the present moment, his conversation with Arya having been cut short due to her abrupt departure from their table.

“What?” Jon said, hastily dragging his eyes away from Stannis and Sansa. “Where did Arya go?”

“She went to get a fresh drink,” Bran said, nodding towards the bar. “Are you jealous? Is that why you keep looking?”

Jon felt his face heat up. “No. I’m happy for them.” It was true. He _was_ happy for both Robb and Sansa. They’d found love.

“Isn’t it possible to be happy for someone and jealous at the same time?” Bran asked.

“I’m not jealous.”

Bran raised a brow and took a sip of his drink.

Without another word, Jon rose to his feet and walked away, no destination in mind. His face was still uncomfortably hot, and his heart was beating too hard.

His feet took him to the garden, and he followed the main path for a while, mostly ignoring the sights and smells around him, though some part of his brain recognised that they were quite pleasant.

Jon really didn’t think he was jealous, but Bran’s question kept circling around his brain, causing his chest to feel tight.

 _I know what jealousy is like,_ he thought to himself, clenching his fists. _This isn’t it._

If he were jealous, wouldn’t he have imagined _himself_ in bed with Sansa, and left Stannis well out of it? Or daydreamed about punching Stannis in the face?

He wasn’t a saint. He’d had idle fantasies about punching idiotic boyfriends before. Men who didn’t treat their girlfriends right.

But Stannis didn’t seem like an idiot, and Jon just wanted Sansa to be happy. And while his stupid old crush on her was no longer quite as forgotten as it had been a few days ago, it wasn’t _back._ Not really.

“Pay up, loser,” Arya’s voice said, startling Jon out of his thoughts. He turned around, searching for her. She was standing right behind him, her palm stretched out and her fingers wriggling. She was holding something that looked like a gin and tonic in her other hand. “Robb and Jeyne just disappeared, and it’s five to midnight. I won the bet.”

Jon groaned. “Really?”

Arya took a smug sip of her drink. “Don’t believe me? Check for yourself.”

Partly exasperated, partly glad to have been distracted from his thoughts, Jon narrowed his eyes at Arya and started for the door. “I will, thanks.”

She trailed after him, smirking.

Once they were inside, Jon’s eyes swept over the sumptuously decorated room. There was a small crowd of people at the bar, mostly the younger set. A few older relatives lingered on at their tables, chatting easily over coffee and liqueurs. There were still dessert plates with cake crumbs littered here and there, though the staff seemed to be cleaning up methodically. Another small crowd was laughing on the dance floor, doing the Macarena. Badly.

Robb was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Jeyne. And neither - Jon could not help but notice - were Sansa and Stannis.

“They could have just gone to use the loo,” Jon said, crossing his arms. He was trying to be relieved that Stannis and Sansa were gone. It meant that he wouldn’t have another awkward run-in with them on the stairs.

Arya rolled her eyes. “I’ve already checked. But you can go look for them if you want.”

“As if I’d take your word for it,” he snorted, already on the move.

He checked the downstairs bathrooms first. There was a short queue in front of the bathroom that had been designated for the ladies to use, but Jon didn’t see Jeyne (or Sansa) standing there. A Manderly came out a minute later, so Jon felt reasonably sure they weren’t hiding inside, either. The bathroom that was intended for the men was occupied when Jon got there, but no one (except him) was waiting outside.

It wasn’t a long wait.

“Jon!” Theon said, his hands still wet and soapy. “Someone’s nicked the bloody towel.”

Jon stretched his neck and peeked into the room Theon had just vacated. There were several towels in there.

“You’re drunk, Theon. Go to your room.”

“Can’t,” Theon said, burping happily. “I’ve got a girl in my bed. We had a bit of fun, but she passed out before I could get my cock out. Bloody nuisance. Now I have to find another bird.”

Quietly relieved that Theon hadn’t done anything unchivalrous, Jon just nodded. “All right, mate. Good luck.”

Theon grinned and saluted, spraying Jon with droplets of water in the process.

“Dry your hands first,” Jon suggested, knowing full well that Theon was no longer listening.

After making sure that Robb and Jeyne weren’t using any of the loos intended for the guests, Jon widened his search. They weren’t in the library or the drawing room, neither were they in the lounge. A quick peek into Ned’s study revealed that to be empty as well.

When he walked past the entrance to the wine cellar, however, he heard something. A _giggle._

Jon hesitated. He didn’t really have any excuse to go wandering into the cellar. But then, neither did the woman who was giggling. And if it was Jeyne giggling down there, Jon might be able to persuade her and Robb to go back to the reception and help him win his bet.

He started down the stairs, his heart speeding up with every step. He tried not to breathe as he walked, and angled his head so that his ears might pick up any further sounds.

“Are you certain?” a deep voice asked.

Jon froze. He had reached the bottom of the stairs, and the voice didn’t sound far away. Still, it was hard to tell in the cellar. Everything echoed strangely. Had it been Robb’s voice?

“If you ask me that one more time, I’m going to -” the feminine voice that had been responsible for the giggling said. Jon wondered why she hadn’t finished her sentence, and tried to get closer.

“You wouldn’t rather just go to our bedroom?”

“Would you?”

Jon couldn’t contain his curiosity, and a part of him was rather amused at the idea of interrupting Robb. Hopefully Jeyne would forgive him. Still, since he wasn’t sure it was them, he proceeded carefully. Quietly.

A quiet groan reached Jon’s ears.

His heart was pounding now, and he was trying not to breathe. Slowly, he edged to the corner that was hiding the couple from view. He kept most of his body hidden, just taking a quick peek.

The first thing he saw was a pale, smooth, long _long_ leg, luminescent in the dim cellar light. It was revealed by the slit of her dress and hooked around a man’s thigh. Her high heels were black, but the soles were red.

Red like her hair.

Jon’s throat dried up as he realised he was spying on Sansa. Sansa and Stannis. Even though Jon could only see his back, he was sure it was him. Jon didn’t think there were many people at the wedding who were built like that. The Umbers might be as tall, or taller even, but they were wider, too.

They were kissing now, no longer talking. Sansa’s hands were running up and down Stannis’ back, clutching at his shoulders, raking through his hair, never stopping. Stannis’ hands were doing something Jon couldn’t see, but judging by what he _could_ see, at least one of them was between her thighs. Moving steadily.

A long, low feminine moan echoed through the cellar. It hit Jon right in the gut and dripped down to his groin from there, melting through his veins.

Jon knew he shouldn’t watch. He should leave. Right now.

“Stannis, _please,_ ” Sansa said, a whimper in her voice.

Jon bit the inside of his cheek when he heard the clink of a belt buckle.

Sansa had already been pressed firmly against the wall, but now Jon could see Stannis pinning her completely in place, holding her up. He could see both her long legs now, the skirt of her dress bunched up where no convenient slit was in place, Stannis’ fingers digging into the flesh of one of her thighs. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was loud and ragged.

_Is he …?_

Stannis started to make short, sharp thrusting movements, each one punctuated by a little gasp or a moan from Sansa’s mouth. She was clutching Stannis’ shoulders so hard that it was noticeably wrinkling the fabric of his jacket.

Jon felt his face flood with heat, and his cock jump and pulse against the fly of his trousers. He couldn’t stop staring. On its own accord, his right hand went to cup the bulge and relieve some of the pressure. A tiny grunt tripped from his lips.

Sansa’s eyes flew open. He wasn’t quick enough. She saw him right before he yanked his head round the corner, hiding it from view; he was sure of it.

He stood paralysed, knowing that he should run away, but unable to make his legs move.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

Any second now, Sansa would tell Stannis that her perverted cousin was _watching_ , and then Stannis would be rounding the corner and _murdering_ him.

His heart was pounding so hard that Jon thought he might pass out.

But the seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. The moans and gasps were still carrying over to his ears.

He started to breathe again. Had he been wrong? Hadn’t Sansa seen him?

“Don’t stop, please…”

Jon knew it was absolute lunacy, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had a quick look ‘round the corner.

Sansa’s eyes were wide open, her face flushed, and she looked right at him. Again.

“Harder,” she said, her voice breathy and pleading. Slowly, deliberately, she closed her eyes. 

Jon stood rooted to the spot, trying to process what had just happened. He swallowed convulsively, unable to stop watching as Stannis hitched Sansa’s body up and started slamming himself into her, hard enough to make her cry out.

_She knows I’m watching. She knows and she… likes it? Or doesn’t care?_

Sansa whispered something to Stannis, and Jon’s stomach immediately clenched in on itself. Was she telling him? Was this it? Should he run?

“Behave yourself,” Stannis answered, his voice graveled. Almost a growl. Something in his tone sent a thrill down Jon’s spine.

“I am behaving,” moaned Sansa. “It was just a question…”

“You know the answer,” Stannis said, nipping at her neck.

“Do I?” Her voice was coy; playful.

“ _Yes._ ” He punctuated the word with a rough thrust. The sight of it had Jon biting the inside of his cheek again.

“So, what you’re saying is -” Sansa paused to give a loud moan. “That if Jon were watching us right now -”

Jon missed the next couple of words she said. He was too busy feeling as if he’d just been dipped head first into a bucket of ice.

“- what you did yesterday before dinner?” Sansa finished, gasping when Stannis hitched her body up again, pinning her in place more firmly. 

He couldn’t believe his ears. It sounded as if… no. No. He must have hallucinated.

 _I need to leave. I need to go. Now._

Stannis made a frustrated noise and suddenly stepped away from Sansa. There was a wet noise that made Jon’s insides twist around.

“Turn around.”

“But -”

“In those heels you should be tall enough. Turn around.”

Jon’s mouth dried out completely as Sansa did as Stannis asked. For a second he saw a flash of a rounded buttock beneath the bunched up fabric of Sansa’s dark blue dress, before Stannis blocked his view. There was another wet sound, and both Stannis and Sansa moaned.

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed harshly through his nose, clenching his fists to keep from pawing at the front of his trousers again.

But he couldn’t keep his eyes closed.

Sansa was braced against the wall, fingers splayed on the concrete, and Jon could just see the way Stannis was gripping her hips. His trousers were being dragged down by the weight of his leather belt now that Sansa’s legs weren’t wrapped around him anymore, and as they slipped further down, Jon started to hear the fleshy smacks of skin against skin.

Jon had never felt this simultaneously embarrassed and aroused. Every inch of his skin was on fire, and his cock was actually _throbbing._

In an eerily familiar way, Sansa’s voice was rising in pitch and volume. And just like last night, Stannis’ was starting to make low sounds of his own, his deep voice carrying clearly though he wasn’t being nearly as loud as Sansa.

Jon knew this was his best chance to escape. Stannis probably wouldn’t hear his retreating footsteps right in the middle of his climax.

“Stannis, oh _gods!_ ”

Forcing his muscles to obey had never been harder, but Jon _finally_ managed to tear his eyes away from them. He staggered backwards, breathing so loudly that he was afraid Stannis would hear him after all, and then he fled as fast as his legs would carry him.


	27. Apologies

Her heart was still beating like a drum.

_Did I really just do that?_

Well, technically, _she_ hadn’t done anything. It had been _Jon_ who had done it: stayed and watched.

_Because I practically dared him to._

If there had been any doubt before, it was certain now. Every future dinner party involving Jon was ruined.

_What was I thinking?_

She hadn’t been thinking. Everything had been a sexy, hormonal, Champagne-flavoured haze. The exhilaration of _finally_ having Stannis to herself, after those frustrating near-misses had pushed every thought of propriety from her head.

Seeing Jon looking should have made her cry out in shock. Or at least do _something_ to alert Stannis.

_Maybe he wouldn’t have minded the audience?_

Sansa shook the thought away. It was a stupid thought, and it was part of the reason why she hadn’t told Stannis that they were being watched. But now that she was thinking more clearly it seemed obvious that though he might like the _idea_ of being caught, it didn’t mean he would actually like being watched in such an intimate moment.

If only they’d actually _talked_ about all this...

“Sansa? Are you all right? You haven’t said a word since we were downstairs.” Stannis was looking at her with his familiar concerned frown. He had already shrugged his jacket off and draped it over their bed, but hadn’t taken his shirt off.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. Wasn’t it better to discuss it late than never? But she couldn’t make herself speak. She didn’t know where to start, and she still felt like this was a topic of conversation that Stannis needed to bring up on his own. She wanted him to be ready. To trust her enough to admit his desires to her. “I - I just need to clean up.”

_But I can’t afford to wait for him to come to me anymore._

Not after what had just happened. It was too big. She couldn’t keep it from him.

Her before-bed routine didn’t buy her nearly enough time to think. And though she stared at her reflection in the en suite mirror for as long she could, trying to figure out how to approach the subject, she couldn’t come up with a strategy.

It was nearly two AM by the time she and Stannis were lying in bed, ready to go to sleep. Stannis hadn’t asked her whether she was all right again, but Sansa could feel him worrying. The Frown of Concern was still there, and he kept glancing at her.

She stared at the ceiling, her muscles tense. She tried to regulate her breathing, counting slowly to five as she inhaled and again as she exhaled, but her insides were writhing, her heart still thumping heavily.

“Was I too rough?” Stannis asked quietly. “Did I hurt you?”

Sansa turned to face him at once. “No! Of course not, please don’t worry about that.”

Stannis searched her expression, and she saw his jaw unclench a little. He nodded. “I believe you. But _something_ is wrong.” His eyes continued to bore into hers.

She wanted to look away. Her chest felt horribly tight, and she was breathing too fast.

“I -”

There was a knock at their door.

Sansa and Stannis stared at each other. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked after a pregnant pause.

She shook her head, but a sense of dread was already stealing over her.

“Sansa? Are you in there? Mr. Baratheon?”

It was Jon’s voice.

“It’s your cousin,” Stannis said, switching his lamp on and raising a brow at her.

“We’re trying to sleep, Jon,” Sansa said, raising her voice so it would carry through the door. She felt rather proud of how steady she sounded.

“I’m sorry, but I have to talk to you. Can I come in? Is everyone… decent?”

Stannis was already getting out of bed and pulling a robe on. Sansa didn’t know what to do, so she buried her head beneath the comforter. _Oh gods._

She heard the door open.

“Mr. Snow, could this not wait until tomorrow?”

“No. I - I’ll be sober by then. I have to speak to you now, before I lose my nerve.”

Stannis said nothing, but Sansa could hear his disapproval in the silence that followed.

Unable to breathe due to the heat and lack of air beneath her comforter, Sansa forced herself to sit up and face the music. “Hi, Jon.”

Jon didn’t meet her eyes. “Hi.”

Stannis crossed his arms and glared. Jon fidgeted.

The silence dragged for a small eternity.

“Well, what is it?” Stannis finally snapped, walking over to his nightstand and picking up a glass of water. He took a drink.

“I owe you an apology,” Jon said, straightening his back and no longer fidgeting.

_Oh no._

“In the middle of the night?” Stannis asked, scowling.

“I don’t know what Sansa told you, but I swear - I didn’t mean to watch for as long as I did. I was just… I don’t know.” Jon ran a hand through his hair, messing up his curls, and closed his eyes briefly.

Stannis looked at her. She couldn’t see herself, but she suspected she was giving a good impression of the proverbial deer in the proverbial headlights.

“Please accept my apology,” Jon went on, taking a slightly wobbly step closer to Stannis and meeting his eyes. He looked at Sansa, holding her gaze for a moment, too. “Both of you. I know what I did was inexcusable, but I’m sorry and I swear it will never happen again. I hope… I hope we can all stay on good terms.”

There was a deep furrow between Stannis’ eyebrows, and he kept looking between her and Jon, obviously confused and aggravated.

“What exactly are you apologising for, Mr. Snow?” Stannis asked through gritted teeth.

Jon looked at her. Sansa gave him her deer impression, too.

“For watching you? In the… in the cellar?” Jon ran his hand through his hair again, causing his curls to further resemble a bird’s nest. He looked imploringly at Sansa, clearly asking for help.

Stannis whipped his head around to look at her, making her wince in sympathy for his neck. His eyes were boring into her again, and Sansa knew he would be able to see the truth. 

“You knew about this?” he asked, disbelief warring with hurt in his voice.

Her throat felt completely blocked, but she managed to make herself nod.

Very slowly, Stannis put his glass of water back down. “Get out.” His voice was low and dangerous, and Sansa actually felt a chill run down her spine. For a second she wasn’t sure whether Stannis was speaking to her or Jon or both of them, but when she saw the way he was looking at Jon it became clear that he’d been addressing him only.

Jon took a step back, his face a little paler than usual.

Gathering her courage, Sansa took a deep breath. “No, Jon, don’t leave, please.”

Stannis looked at her, his expression stony.

“What were you doing in the cellar?” she asked, focusing all her attention on Jon for the moment.

“I was looking for Robb,” Jon mumbled, looking at his feet.

“Why didn’t you go after I saw you?” She hadn’t expected to ever be able to ask Jon about this, but since the cat was out of the bag… “Why did you stay?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said, letting out a loud frustrated huff. “But I’m really sorry, all right?”

“You do know,” Stannis said, his voice sounding like the lid of a coffin slamming shut. “You’re attracted to Sansa.”

_What?_

“No!” Jon exclaimed. “No, I’m not, really!” He dragged both his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes. “I mean, I had a stupid crush on her when we were barely teenagers, but this really isn’t about that. I got over that a long time ago.”

“You had a crush on me?” Sansa felt as if the bottom of her stomach had fallen out. “Really?”

“You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen,” Jon said, a hint of self-deprecating smile on his lips. “And I was a mess of hormones.”

Stannis cleared his throat pointedly.

Sansa shook her head, trying to clear it. “You should probably go,” she said, looking down at her hands, feeling her cheeks burning. “Thank you for the apology.”

“Stannis, I really am so sorry. I have the deepest respect for you. For you both.” Jon’s expression was painfully earnest as he looked from Stannis to her and back again.

It did not look as if Stannis thought much of Jon’s respect at the moment.

Sansa’s insides wriggled and churned, guilt eating away at her.

Jon had his hand on the doorknob. Stannis still hadn’t said a word, his lips thin.

“I’m sorry, too,” she blurted out. She cast Stannis a remorseful glance before looking back at Jon. “I should have reacted differently when I saw you,” she looked at Stannis, “I should have told you Jon was there.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I just thought… I thought it might be something you wanted.”

Stannis’ face became utterly bloodless, his body rigid with tension.

“I realise now I made a mistake,” Sansa hurriedly went on, her heart pounding. “I was just, I don’t know, caught up in the moment...” She trailed off, staring at Stannis, willing him to show her some sort of reaction to her words.

He wouldn’t even meet her eyes.

Jon cleared his throat, and when Sansa looked at him she saw him swallow several times. “You thought he’d want me to watch?” He glanced at the bed’s headboard, and reddened. “Do you guys have some sort of… exhibition thing?” He looked between her and Stannis a few times, his brow furrowed. He was a little unsteady on his feet. “Do you have a thing about being heard, too?” 

_Heard?_ “What?”

“You know I’m in the room next to you, right?” Jon asked, shifting from foot to foot, and reddening further.

Sansa glanced at Stannis, but he was still not meeting her eyes. He was staring at the headboard behind her, discomfort in every line of his face.

 _We weren’t being loud in here, though,_ she thought. But then she remembered the previous night.

_Oh._

“I didn’t know, actually,” Sansa said, almost certain that her face was just as red as Jon’s.

Jon winced. “Forget I mentioned it.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I should probably go to bed. I’m sorry again,” Jon said at length, stumbling backwards to the door. “Thank you for your advice about my proposal,” he added, looking briefly at Stannis.

Stannis had his arms crossed, and his face had turned to stone again.

“Good-night,” Sansa managed to say, giving Jon a feeble little wave.

As soon as he was gone, Sansa opened her mouth to apologise to Stannis, or explain herself, or _something._ But he didn’t give her a chance to say anything.

“I can’t discuss this right now.” His voice was clipped, his expression closed off. “Go to sleep.”

Sansa thought about arguing, but it was very clear that Stannis needed time to think. She closed her mouth and nodded.

Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow to find that this had all been a very strange dream.

Or maybe the cold, heavy stone in the pit of her stomach would prevent her from sleeping at all.


	28. Quietly

Stannis woke up with a sense of dread weighing his stomach down, his jaw already aching the way it did after a day of business meetings involving Robert.

A part of him wanted to leave Winterfell and Sansa behind. Retreat home, hide himself away in his study, and try to sort through his feelings in peace and quiet. Another part of him couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Sansa’s side for even a moment.

She looked so innocent, sleeping beside him. Not at all like the sort of woman who would decide not to tell him they were being _watched._ And then imply to Jon that they had an ‘exhibition thing’. Something they hadn’t even discussed between themselves. Something _private._ She had no business telling her cousin about it.

_Jon Snow._

Stannis’ insides roiled as he thought of the younger man. To think that he had been beginning to approve of him…

_I should have trusted my first impression._

It had been clear from the start that Jon Snow had some sort of… unnatural interest in Sansa. But he had also seemed intelligent, and his business ideas had merit.

He tried to unclench his jaw and shifted slowly to lie on his side. Sansa was still fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in a smooth, hypnotic rhythm. There was a small furrow between her brows however, a hint that she was not sleeping quite as easily as she usually did.

She had been ill at ease last night, too. After the cellar. It had been obvious. And she had been about to tell him something when Jon had interrupted them.

_Maybe she was going to tell me what she saw?_

It made sense.

But what had possessed her to postpone the conversation for as long as she had?

It just seemed so… out of character for her to do blithely allow a bystander to observe her, _them_ , in such an intimate moment. He would perhaps have expected it from your average twenty-something, trying to live up to the impossible standards of other twenty-somethings, trying to prove they were sexually adventurous and _interesting._

Stannis scowled. He had never felt the need to prove anything of that sort. He wasn’t _Robert._

But was it out of character? Sansa had been known to occasionally act her age. There had been the Incident at that party, after all. So perhaps he had missed something regarding her interests in bed? He hadn’t known Sansa for all that long, after all. He took a deep breath and thought back, trying to remember whether there had been signs that Sansa might desire doing… alternative things.

_She did initiate that encounter in the car. Practically in public. And there was that display with the mayor…_

Those encounters had been surprising. But if he were to be frank with himself, he had enjoyed them. Enjoyed them far too much. 

His insides squirmed. Lust spiked through him briefly, a flash of what he’d felt last night.

_She didn’t care that she was in her family’s ancestral home. She had to have me, couldn’t wait until we were in our bedroom, she **begged**..._

It wasn’t as if he were opposed to experimenting if that was what Sansa wanted to do. But was it unreasonable to wish to be involved in the decision making process? If she’d just _asked…_

 _But she couldn’t very well ask last night, could she?_ a reasonable voice that sounded rather like Davos spoke up inside his head. _She didn’t invite Jon to wander into the cellar. And you both knew there was a risk of getting caught._

Would it have been any better if she’d shrieked and made a scene?

Stannis scowled and shook his head, irritated by the mere thought.

Insides squirming again, Stannis recalled what she _had_ done. The things she had whispered to him.

_”What would you do if Jon were watching us right now?”_

The _nerve._ Stannis hadn’t even considered the idea that Jon might _actually_ be watching them. Why should he have considered it? She had played the same game on Friday night, hadn’t she? And Jon had not been watching then. Though possibly he had heard.

His cock twitched traitorously, and his face grew uncomfortably hot.

Still asleep, Sansa rolled toward him, mumbling something unintelligible. As soon as she came into contact with him, she cuddled up close, the furrow between her brow disappearing. She felt soft and warm with sleep, and despite his troubled state of mind, Stannis felt himself respond to her.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. He didn’t need this kind of distraction at the moment. He was trying to _think._

“Stannis?” Her voice was hoarse and hardly awake, her tone confused.

“Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t think I can,” she yawned, “I’m awake now.”

He pressed his lips together until they went numb, not trusting himself to say anything else.

“Have you been up long?” Sansa asked, rubbing at her eyes.

He shook his head.

She looked at him, her eyes going from being bleary with sleep to being wide open and alert. “Do you - do you want to talk?”

“Give me a minute,” he said, his voice graveled with sleep. He escaped to the en suite for a few more minutes of quiet.

What was he supposed to say to her? How was he supposed to handle this?

He splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. For a moment he wondered what Robert would think of all this. Or Renly.

 _They probably wouldn’t believe I could possibly have stumbled into such a situation._ The thought tasted bitter.

When he returned to the bedroom, Sansa was sitting on the bed, her back very straight and her expression as fragile as he’d ever seen it.

_Fuck._

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You should be,” he said, even though it pained him to see the stricken look his words produced. He crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “What were you _thinking?_ ”

He heard her inhale shakily. “I don’t know. I’m not usually, I just… like I said - I got caught up in the moment. I thought… I thought you might like it.”

He clenched his jaw shut and breathed slowly through his nose. “If you thought I’d like it, why didn’t you include me in what was happening?”

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, there was something determined in her eyes. “I thought you might like it, but I was scared you wouldn’t, too. We - we haven’t exactly talked about any of this.”

A pang of guilt shot through him, but he clenched his jaw and pushed it aside. They were not discussing his mistakes at the moment. “That’s no excuse.”

“I know it isn’t,” she said. “But do you think we could talk about it? Now?”

He walked over to the window, his heart beating too quickly. After taking a few subtle deep breaths, he nodded jerkily.

“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “I feel like you might like the idea of getting caught doing stuff with me?” Her voice was quiet, but there was a surprising amount of strength to her words nonetheless.

“I don’t want anyone to watch us,” he said quickly, his stomach squirming. He glanced quickly at her. She looked pale and sat very still, curled up with her arms wrapped around her knees.

“But… when Cressen walked in on us -”

Blood rushed to his face and he didn’t let her finish. “It’s different if it’s not on purpose.” His mouth felt uncomfortably dry. “And if it’s just for a short time.” He swallowed and licked his lips. “And if I know it’s happening.” He glanced at her again. She was looking pensive, her brow furrowed.

“I think I understand,” she said slowly. She paused for a moment. “Have you always liked, um-?”

“No,” he said flatly.

“Just with me?” There was a soft note of wonder in her voice.

Stannis didn’t know what to say. His shoulders twitched and he gave a half nod, hoping she somehow wouldn’t notice how red his face was getting.

“It’s kind of a thrill, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Other people seeing how much we want each other?” She tilted her head to the side, considering him. Her cheeks had turned pink, which was a small comfort. At least he wasn’t the only one feeling embarrassed.

He nodded unconsciously, but stopped as soon as he noticed that he was doing it, and returned to staring at the floor. He tried not to think about how it had felt to see the flash of jealousy in Addam Marbrand’s eyes, his insides writhing once more.

“But you need to feel in control of the situation?” she went on, the question clear in her voice.

“I don’t like being blindsided,” he said at once. It was the truth.

They were both quiet for a while.

“I like that you like it,” she whispered at length. “I liked how you reacted after Cressen saw us.”

Heart pounding now, and his head ringing, Stannis started to pace. “That doesn’t make what you did last night all right. You neglected to tell me that we were being watched. You turned it into some… game… and I - I didn’t consent to it, Sansa.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry.” She sounded utterly miserable. Stannis knew that if he looked at her, he’d want to go to her and comfort her. He stared resolutely at the floor. “Please, tell me how to fix this,” she added with a shuddered breath.

Stannis dropped his arms to his sides before immediately raising one to run his fingers through his hair. He sighed. “I know you’re sorry.” He blew out another loud breath, gathering the wherewithal to admit his own wrongdoing. _Fair is fair._ “And I should apologise too. This conversation… it’s long overdue. But I don’t know that this can be fixed, Sansa.” He knew himself. Forgiveness had never come easily for him. What if he couldn’t let go of this? Would he be able to trust Sansa the same way again?

Sansa stifled a sob. A sharp pang shot through his heart.

“I don’t want it to be ruined,” Sansa said, her voice tearful. “Don’t let it be ruined, I’m _sorry._ ”

Feeling rather as if every sound she made were tearing another strip of his heart away, Stannis turned towards the window and peered out through a gap in the curtains. If she’d asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to describe what he saw. All he knew was that Sansa was crying, and that he _hated_ it.

“Can’t we just… do it over? I’d include you, and you could… I don’t know, yell at Jon, and it would be like nothing ever happened.”

“Don’t be absurd,” he said, furrowing his brow. “This is real life. You can’t just do things over.”

Her breathing eased up a little, as if she were gaining control of herself. “Yes, but if you could do it over, what would you change?”

Stannis finally worked up the courage to look at her. She was still sitting on the bed, though she had moved to the edge closest to him, her body tense with nervous energy. Her face was streaked with tears and she was worrying at her lower lip.

He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. He went to her.

As soon as he was sitting next to her, she was burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, clinging onto him. He put a hand on her back and rubbed soothing circles, his throat filling with a lump he couldn’t swallow.

Her question was forcing him to examine things he’d rather push to the side and forget. It wasn’t a particularly mature reaction, he knew. Nor a very honest one. But he didn’t want to face the small part of himself that had responded with avarice to last night’s revelation. The part that had felt an electric, almost painful pang of lust when he’d found out that Jon had _seen_ what happened in the cellar, had _heard_ the way he had enjoyed everything Sansa had to offer on Friday night, too.

Seen and heard and… envied? 

_Desired?_

They were quiet for a long while.

“Stannis? What would you change?” Sansa whispered at length, looking up at him. 

_What would I change?_ Images from a dark corner of his brain showed him flashes of what last night might have been like if Stannis had known Jon was watching from the shadows. 

He swallowed thickly. 

He wasn’t sure he would have done anything differently, but he was certain it would have _felt_ different.

The memory of Jon’s earnest face swam to the forefront of his mind. _”I have the deepest respect for you.”_

His blood was too hot. Everything itched.

“He wants you,” Stannis said, the words wrenching themselves from his throat without proper permission.

“I don’t know that he does,” Sansa said, searching his eyes. “I don’t think he really knows what he wants.” She glanced at his lips, a strange expression that he couldn’t read crossing her face. “It’s very odd to think of him that way.” Her eyes were on his again, red-rimmed from crying. “But I would never choose him over you. You know that, right?”

_Do I?_

“I mean, I care about him a lot, but he’s… he’s my cousin.” She took a few deep breaths. “It’s you I love.” The fragile look was back. “I love you so much,” she whispered.

He stared at her, stunned.

They’d never discussed love.

Everything was slow and confused for a long, unending moment, until his heart suddenly sped up. 

There was nothing but truth in Sansa’s eyes.

“Please, I know I made a mistake. I promise I won’t do anything like that again. And we never have to see Jon again if that’s what you want.” She bit her lip, but kept looking right at him. It was clear that the idea of never seeing Jon again was painful to her, but it was also clear to him that she meant what she said.

_She would choose me over her own blood?_

He was quiet for several seconds, trying to wrap his mind around the implications. And then it was as if a knot inside him unwound itself, and it became suddenly much easier to breathe.

_Why did I ever think forgiveness was difficult?_

“I love you, too,” he said, kissing her temple. “And I will do my best not to repeat my mistakes, either.” He met her eyes, trying to show her that he meant it. In the future he would endeavour to speak to her sooner about matters she needed to be included in. Even if it felt desperately awkward. “But of course we’ll see Mr. Snow again.” He paused, thinking. “What is it that people say? Blood is thicker than water?”

Sansa seemed to sag against him. She was completely still for a few seconds, but then she was kissing every bit of him she could reach; mainly his neck.

The sensible thing to do was to gently push her away. Send her to the en suite to wash her face and compose herself. His nerves still felt raw, and though he had forgiven her, though he _loved_ her - he paused to marvel at the thought - there was still a small part of him that wanted to retreat and lick its wounds.

She sucked gently on his pulse point, her fingernails raking slowly over the back of his head.

A wave of hot, syrupy pleasure flooded his senses, and as Sansa’s tongue licked out to taste his neck, the thought of licking any wounds dissolved into a vague memory. _What wounds?_

He tightened his hold on her, hugging her to his chest as tightly as he could without hurting her, and sought her lips with his own. Kissing her was always a uniquely enjoyable experience, but knowing what he did now, that she _loved_ him, it was deeper somehow. Warmer.

She was warm, too. Warm, soft, and utterly pliant in his arms. Had she started to purr like a contented cat he would barely have batted an eyelash. Sansa nipped at his lower lip then, setting off a jolt of electricity. He groaned and cupped her cheek, angling her face so that he’d be able to deepen their kiss further.

It didn’t seem real that she was here. That she loved him. That she’d chosen _him._

A feeling he couldn’t quite name soared within his chest. It was right beside the love that was making his heart seem like it was bursting, adding to it, but existing separately from it. He could do anything right now, he was sure. He could defeat any enemy that might challenge him; slay a dragon; conquer the world; _anything._

Sansa moaned into their kiss: a low delicious sound that traveled directly to his groin.

He wondered whether it had been loud enough to carry through the wall, and though he doubted it, the thought sent a surprisingly pleasant shiver racing down his spine.

_Let the whole world hear. I don’t care._

“Careful,” he found himself saying before he could think better of it, his hands on the move, “keep that up and I’m afraid we’ll end up waking our neighbour.” Her long hair was uncombed and slept on, and yet it felt soft as silk between his fingers.

Sansa shot him a brief, almost frightened look, but once she had searched his eyes she relaxed visibly. “That wouldn’t be very polite of us, would it?”

“No... it wouldn’t.” The corner of his mouth was twitching oddly.

Sansa was still looking at him uncertainly. “We could try to be quiet?”

He didn’t believe for one minute that Sansa would be able to be quiet. No, if he did his job she’d forget herself and let out at least one of those lovely squeals of hers. And though it was highly possible that Jon had managed to drink enough last night to sleep through anything, his stomach still did a somersault at the idea of Jon hearing them again.

“Could we?” His voice was an octave lower than it usually was.

A pink blush rose from Sansa’s neck to her cheeks, and her eyes glazed over. She nodded silently, licking her lips.

As if they’d rehearsed it, they both shifted their bodies to lie back on the bed, kissing all the while. Her cheeks tasted salty: still a little wet with tears, but he did his best to kiss them all away. Her mouth was hungry, however, and she didn’t give him very many chances to kiss her anywhere but on the lips. Her tongue was everywhere inside his mouth, licking and curling around his with wild abandon.

He was forced to be quite firm with her to dislodge himself.

“Too much?” she asked, widening her eyes and batting her eyelashes. She was playful; all uncertainty and fear wiped clean away.

_Good._

He gave her a stern look and put a finger to his lips. It would be interesting to see how long she’d be able to keep quiet.

Sansa rose up to her elbows to watch him when he moved down her body, a puzzled look on her face for the first few seconds, but then comprehension dawned.

She spread her thighs very obediently when he touched her knees, and to her credit, the sharp inhale when he started to nose at her folds - conveniently accessible beneath her nightgown - was almost completely silent.

He got himself as comfortably situated as he could. He was going to make this last.

There were parts of this task that he did not particularly enjoy: the crick he tended to get in his neck; the difficulty breathing; the way he had to move his tongue in a very unnatural, repetitive way until it felt as if it would go numb. But there were several things he _did_ very much enjoy. The way his fingers sank into the down-soft flesh of her thighs as he held her in place; the smell and the taste of her, salty and sharp like the sea; the way she’d twitch when he did something she liked in particular; and the way her breathing got louder and more ragged with every minute that went by.

“ _Stannis…”_ she moaned after a slightly shorter amount of time than he’d expected. The muscles of her thighs tensed and relaxed repeatedly. Impatiently.

He gave the outside of her thigh a soft tap with his palm. “Quiet.”

The next sound she made was more a whimper than anything else.

The world fell away as he focused on nothing but repeating the same motion with his tongue, again and again, almost forgetting to breathe. Meanwhile, Sansa’s breathing sounded more like panting, and she was making high-pitched whining noises that were only just within his hearing range. Her thighs were quivering; the taste of her was becoming stronger, more concentrated.

“Stannis!” she cried out, a hand clutching the back of his head, her thighs seizing up around him to hold him still. “ _Gods._ ”

But he could still move his tongue.

A warm feeling that had nothing to do with the sweaty work he was doing settled in his chest. It was satisfaction and triumph and - if he were to be completely honest - smugness all rolled into one, and though his tongue felt like it might fall off in protest he kept going, revelling in the squeals his efforts were producing, the way Sansa’s hips were trying to lift off the bed, and the tremors he could feel running through her.

When he was sure he had wrung every last drop of pleasure from her, he moved up to kiss her. She moaned, still shamelessly noisy.

“You realise you were loud enough to wake the dead,” he commented when their lips parted, raising an eyebrow at her.

She blushed, but did not look away. “If you wanted me to stay quiet you shouldn’t have made it so good.”

He suppressed the amusement that was tugging a the corners of his lips. “Still. A little self control might not have gone amiss.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him, and then she was on the move, a determined air about her.

“What are you doing?” The question wasn’t truly necessary. His blood was already rushing to his groin at the sight of her moving down his body, and the feel of her hands tugging on his pyjama bottoms.

“Let’s see how quiet you manage to be,” she said archly, just as she revealed his rapidly hardening cock to the cool air of the bedroom.

He had time to take a single, shallow breath, and then she was on him. Her hand grasping him firmly, soft lips enveloping the head, the tip of her tongue teasing it, sending an electric shock of pleasure rocketing up his spine.

Of course, that was only the beginning.

She knew precisely what he liked, having done this a fair few times before. Her hand moved up and down in a rhythm that set his teeth on edge in the best possible way, and her tongue… _fuck,_ her tongue swirled around the head of his cock like it was candy and she was _hungry._ And when she wasn’t swirling her tongue she was sucking with just the right amount of pressure, just the right hint of teeth grazing gently against his foreskin.

Two minutes and he was fisting the sheets tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Four minutes and he was choking back moans, his breathing ragged and his body trembling with the effort of keeping still.

She released his cock with an obscene sounding ‘pop’, and licked with the flat of her tongue from base to head, looking up at him the whole time.

He couldn’t help it. He swore under his breath as his hips thrust up.

Sansa gave him a sweet look. “Quiet,” she whispered.

And then she was massaging his cock with one hand as she sucked his balls into her mouth.

He went rigid, and had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep them from rolling into the back of his head. “ _Fuck._ ”

She didn’t give him a second to recover. Releasing his balls, she went straight for the head, sucking harder now, and jerking him off at the same time, faster and faster, perfectly matching the movements of her mouth and her hand.

A moan he couldn’t suppress reverberated throughout the room, and Stannis became even more keenly aware than before that Jon must have woken up by now. He was probably lying on the other side of the wall, listening to every sound. 

A rush of heat that had nothing to do with what Sansa was doing with her mouth passed through him. “Sansa…” It wasn’t his habit to say much of anything coherent during sex, but though his brain was rapidly sinking into the haze of an oncoming orgasm, a visceral urge to _speak_ was clawing its way to his throat. “That feels perfect,” he said, his heart beating a little faster. “Fuck, your mouth is perfect…” 

Sansa moved even faster, as if his words were spurring her on, her tongue swirling in a way that made him clench his buttocks to keep from thrusting up. The sensation of her sucking on him, the hot, wet pressure of it, was setting off fireworks all over his body. He groaned involuntarily, and did nothing to stop himself. Possibly he even let himself be a little louder than usual.

For a second, Sansa took her mouth off him and gave him a searching look, but she either found what she was looking for very quickly, or she gave up trying to find it. She went back to pushing him to the brink of his climax, her face flushed with the effort.

His balls already felt tight and he was… almost….

_There._

Another, much louder groan, and his neck went slack. His entire body went slack. He felt like a balloon with the air let out of it, limp and completely useless. He was vaguely aware of Sansa crawling up to lie beside him, and tried to move his arm to accommodate her.

“Not so easy being quiet, is it?” she whispered after a indeterminable amount of time, amusement, and something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, flavouring her tone.

He gave her a look that was meant to be quelling, but as her amusement only seemed to increase, he doubted that he had managed it. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

The silence that followed was comfortable and easy, broken only by the sound of their breathing slowing, and the faint sound of birdsong outside their window. 

That is to say, until a very different sound reached Stannis’ ears.

At first he wasn’t sure what he was hearing, but he held his breath and listened intently, trying to make it out. 

It was a soft rhythmic sound that Stannis thought was _very_ familiar. And it was definitely coming from Jon’s room.

“Is that...?” Sansa whispered, giving him a wide-eyed look.

Stannis listened for a moment longer, just to be certain, but when the faint groan carried through the wall it became perfectly clear that what they were hearing was Jon.

Sansa covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh my gods.”

Heat rushed to his face, causing an prickly, stinging sensation. He hadn’t realised the sound carried _this_ well.

Beside him, Sansa was now hiding her face in her pillow, and she had pulled the comforter over her head for good measure. He could hear muffled, slightly hysterical giggles coming from the depths.

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should go down for breakfast.”


	29. Waking

“I heard you, you know,” Jon said, once the door opened.

Sansa’s mouth dropped open for a moment, her face pinkening. She was only wearing a robe: one that had been hastily donned by the look of things. Stannis was lying in bed behind her, the covers only keeping his bottom half hidden, his hair mussed and skin flushed from exertion. His eyes were fixed on Jon, dark and unreadable.

“We know you heard us,” Sansa said. Jon had to drag his eyes away from Stannis’ chest to look at her. She was biting into her lower lip, her eyes heavy-lidded. 

… And had Jon imagined it, or had there been something… sultry in her tone?

Stannis rose up on his elbows, eyes still boring into Jon as if he were a complicated equation Stannis wanted to solve. The movement made his abdominal muscles ripple in a very hypnotising way.

“Uh,” Jon cleared his throat and licked the roof of his mouth. “You know?”

“We were hoping you’d knock, actually…” Sansa continued, taking a step closer to Jon and leaning over to close the door behind him, forcing him into the room. He sucked in a breath, realising that he was practically trapped between the door and Sansa’s warm body.

“You were?” His voice came out as an embarrassing, hoarse sort of squeak.

Sansa licked her lips and nodded.

Jon glanced over her shoulder at Stannis. Were his eyes smouldering? Did eyes do that in real life?

The skin of Sansa’s hands was softer and hotter than Jon could have imagined, and when she touched him, his mind went blank. He had the vague notion that he was being led somewhere, but it seemed a curious sort of blur. 

The next thing he knew, he was on the bed.

“Um,” he said, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was only wearing his pyjama bottoms, and that they weren’t hiding his reaction to this situation at all.

“You should take those off,” Sansa said, briefly making eye contact with Jon before her eyelids fluttered closed as Stannis kissed her neck, his hands already untying the loose knot holding Sansa’s robe closed.

Jon didn’t breathe as the robe fell open to reveal an abundance of creamy, perfect skin. Stannis was already cupping a gorgeous, round breast, his fingers plucking at a pink nipple. Sansa moaned. It was a deep and throaty sound that sent a million shivers racing all over Jon’s body.

Jon was naked, which was convenient because he had to touch himself. _Now._ It was frustrating, though. No matter how desperately he palmed his cock, he couldn’t seem to relieve the pressure.

Sansa was kissing Stannis now, moving down his body, licking his abdomen.

Jon swallowed convulsively. The dryness in his mouth was gone. He was practically salivating now.

Stannis was staring at Jon, as if he were daring him to do something. _Say_ something.

The covers shifted, Sansa had dragged them aside, and Jon could see Stannis’ cock jutting up towards his navel.

He clutched more tightly at his own cock, but again it was as if he were trying to hold onto smoke.

Sansa started to suck on Stannis’ cock, her head bobbing slowly up and down. She turned her head just the slightest bit, glancing at Jon. Her eyes were still heavy-lidded, but there was something in her gaze that said: ‘Well?’

As if he’d been electrocuted, Jon jumped into action. He moved to kneel behind Sansa, having to straddle Stannis’ calves to do so. Sansa herself had her knees on either side of Stannis’ legs, and she was leaning forward to suck him off. Jon just had to get her ass in the air and then she’d be spread open for him.

Without thinking twice, he buried his face in her cunt, licking into her from behind. The moans she produced in response to his mouth were muffled by Stannis’ cock, but Jon enjoyed them all the more for it, jerking himself off furiously as he licked and sucked.

It was strange, but he couldn’t really taste her, even though he was licking more enthusiastically than he had ever done. His tongue wasn’t getting tired either, and his back didn’t hurt from being in this odd position. All he could really feel was the pulsing, throbbing, _angry_ arousal that had his cock harder than steel in his hand.

His whole world was narrowing down to the sounds Sansa was making. Her gorgeous, muffled moans.

“Stannis!” Her voice was suddenly much clearer. “ _Gods._ ”

 _That’s not right,_ Jon thought, frowning into her cunt. _It’s me who’s making you come._

She squealed and moaned, even though Jon had stopped licking her, even though everything was suddenly very dark, and even though his head was suddenly _pounding._ His cock still felt overwhelmingly hard, but it was less important now that it seemed like his brain was about to leak out through his split skull.

_Fuck._

He tried to sit up and grope for the lamp switch, but ended up deciding against it. Lying very still seemed like the better option.

Sansa’s squeals were reaching a crescendo now. On the other side of the wall.

 _Gods, what is he dong to her?_ His stomach squirmed and his cock throbbed, and he really wished he’d thought to put a glass of water on the nightstand before going to sleep.

After what felt like an eternity, the noise stopped.

Jon held his breath, listening intently. He heard the faint murmur of conversation, but concentrating on actually deciphering individual words was beyond him.

Weakly, he reached for his cock. He seemed to be wearing his underwear, but thankfully the waistband of his boxer briefs wasn’t too tight; he could easily slide his hand beneath it. He hissed when his hand made contact with the hot, clammy skin.

 _Finally._ This was what he’d been dreaming of. _This, and other things…_

Jon tried to hold onto the details of the dream, but the more he tried to remember it, the more it slipped away. His head ached. Ignoring it, he tugged at his foreskin, pulling it up and down over the head of his cock, collecting the precome with his thumb and spreading it liberally around. He shoved his other hand down there too, pressing the flat of his palm against his balls and suppressing a grunt. Slowly, he started to stroke the shaft of his cock, still maintaining the pressure on his balls. Pleasure and relief flooded his system, easing the pain in his head somewhat.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Jon’s eyes flew open and his hands went still. _Did I say that?_

No. It hadn’t been him. It had come from the other side of the wall.

Jon didn’t breathe or move a muscle. All he did was listen. A second went by, and then another. A drawn out moan reached his ears, causing him to tense up even further. It hadn’t been Sansa’s voice. It had been deeper. Masculine.

Jon’s cock twitched, and he had to start moving his hands again.

“Sansa…” Stannis said on the other side of the wall, his deep voice carrying almost as clearly as if he were lying in Jon’s bed. “That feels perfect.”

Jon bit the inside of his cheek. His brain was filling with images of what might be going on in the blue room. Was Stannis fucking her? Was Sansa sucking him off?

“Fuck, your mouth is perfect…” 

_Old gods and new,_ Jon thought, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand was moving so fast that his shoulder was starting to hurt. He could imagine it so clearly now. Sansa’s head in Stannis’ lap, bobbing up and down. Maybe Stannis would have his hand buried in her hair? Guiding her, not pushing.

Or maybe Sansa liked it rough? Maybe she liked having her head held in place and fucked?

_Or maybe I’d like it?_

_Fuck._

Jon was reaching the point of no return, his brain spiralling out of control, his fantasies getting dark and dirty, and _oh, fucking, fuck, fuck…._

Focused solely on his own pleasure now, Jon barely heard Stannis reach his climax on the other side of the wall.

Sweating, letting go of his balls and gripping the headboard for an anchor, Jon made a fist and fucked up into it, hips thrusting wildly. He was probably making too much noise, but he didn’t care. He groaned as his balls tightened up, the release of his orgasm just out of reach. He let go of the headboard and flattened his palm against them, moving his other hand and his hips in tandem.

He saw stars when he finally came. Actual fucking stars.

Vaguely, he registered a door opening and closing somewhere in the near distance. Not his door: probably the door of the blue room.

His hand felt sticky.

His last thought before falling back to sleep was that he should probably clean up.

***

Jon was hungover.

Jon was hungover, mortified, and somehow, unfairly, _impossibly,_ horny.

He had expected that the look Stannis had given him last night would be seared into his brain, causing any stray thoughts of arousal that had anything to do with Sansa or Stannis to whither and die a painful death.

Not so.

 _They must have known I’d hear,_ Jon rationalised, pacing around his room and pointedly ignoring his tented pyjama bottoms. He’d already masturbated once. He wasn’t going to do it again. _Stannis must have **wanted** me to hear._

Why else would he talk so loudly about how fucking perfect Sansa’s mouth felt?

Jon’s face warmed up all over again. Not that it had really cooled for a second since he’d woken back up.

How was he ever going to be able to look either Sansa or Stannis in the eyes again? Why had he decided to barge into their room last night and apologise for watching them have sex? Why had he stayed and watched them have sex in the first place?

Knowing that Stannis and Sansa had left their room and gone down for breakfast, Jon allowed himself to make the sound one makes when one is completely fed up with one’s own stupidity: half groan, half whine, and just a pinch of ‘why, gods, _why?_ ’.

Wincing at the noise, Jon rubbed his temples. “I am never drinking again,” he announced to the empty room.

Feeling a little better for having made that announcement, Jon dragged himself off to have a shower. A cold one.

Robb and Jeyne had already departed for their honeymoon by the time Jon worked up the courage to show his face downstairs. He felt a pang of guilt for failing to see them off, but more overwhelmingly, he felt relief. Robb would have noticed there was something off about him in a second. Thankfully, Arya was obviously too hungover to notice, and the other Starks didn’t know him well enough to pick up on it.

Well, Sansa picked up on it, but she had an unfair advantage. She kept shooting him furtive, nervous glances from her side of the lunch spread, worrying at her lips and picking at her food.

Stannis hadn’t looked at him once.

“Sansa, were you going to show Stannis around town before you leave?” Catelyn asked, blissfully unaware that even mentioning their names out loud made Jon wince.

Sansa startled. “I - I hadn’t thought.” She glanced at Stannis. “Do you want to -?”

“Perhaps another time,” Stannis said, cutting Sansa off mid-question. Jon noticed him squeeze her hand at the same time however, as if to apologise for the interruption.

He looked away.

“We have a long drive ahead of us,” Sansa said, directing her words at Catelyn.

“Well, you should at least show him more of the grounds,” Catelyn said, a note of finality in her voice. “And Arya, perhaps you should go with them? You’ll be able to help them with the boat if they’d like to go out on the lake. There’s a lovely little island that Stannis simply can’t miss seeing.”

Arya, who had up until then been nursing a strong cup of coffee and grunting if anyone asked her to so much as pass the marmalade, looked up with a horrified expression. “What? No. Can’t Bran take them?”

“Don’t be absurd, he’s not old enough to mess about with the speedboat.” Catelyn, who was the only one at the table looking even remotely hangover-free, did not seem to have a shred of sympathy for her younger daughter.

Bran, having used the speedboat plenty of times on his own, rolled his eyes and concentrated on his salad.

For a moment it looked as if Arya might suggest Ned take Sansa and Stannis to the island, but one glance at her father seemed to be enough to make her reconsider. Jon thought that was wise of her.

“Jon can take them,” Arya said, giving him a pleading look. “Can’t you, Jon?”

“Uh.” Jon nearly spilled his glass of water all over himself.

“Mum, we really don’t need to see the island, it’s fine,” Sansa said, looking paler than usual.

“Are you sure? You always used to love visiting it at this time of year. The Forget-me-nots will be in bloom.”

“We really don’t have the time, Mrs. Stark,” Stannis said, his tone firm.

The conversation turned to other matters for a while, and Jon’s heart gradually slowed to a more comfortable rate. But it wasn’t until Stannis and Sansa left to go for a short walk around the grounds that Jon started to breathe completely easily.

He should have known that his reprieve would be short-lived.

“You owe me five dragons,” Arya said, cornering him right before he managed to escape back upstairs to his room.

Jon blinked at her. “What?”

“Robb and Jeyne? Last night? I was right, you were wrong. Pay up.”

 _Right. The bet._ He had forgotten all about it. “Uh, sure. I just need to get my wallet.”

Arya trailed after him as he made his way to his room, leaning against the door jamb while he searched for his wallet.

“So, what’s up with you and Sansa?” she asked, causing him to drop the suit jacket he’d just picked up.

He hurriedly grabbed the jacket back from the floor, sticking his hands into the pockets with a bit more force than necessary. No wallet. “Nothing’s up.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Arya said, narrowing her eyes, “at lunch you were both acting like going on a boat ride together would be the end of the world. Did you have a fight or something?”

“No.” Jon threw the jacket over the back of a chair and walked over to his nightstand. Maybe his wallet was in the drawer.

“Then what is it?”

He glared at her, wishing she would just drop the matter. “It’s _nothing_ , Arya. Leave it alone.” The drawer was empty.

Arya raised her palms and eyebrows. “Sorry I asked, Mr. Grumpy.” She spoke with her usual bravado, but Jon still heard the undercurrent of hurt in her tone.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to let his guilt talk him into telling Arya what had happened. No one could ever know. “Seriously, everything’s fine. I don’t know what’s up with Sansa, but I’m just hungover, okay?”

Arya looked at him suspiciously for a few beats, but then she broke into a grin. “You too, huh? Honestly, I would rather die than take Sansa and Stannis on some romantic boat ride to look at _flowers._ ”

Jon forced himself to return the smile. “Right? What a nightmare.”

Arya twisted her expression into a surprisingly accurate impression of Stannis’ customary scowl. “‘Do you want me to pick you a flower, darling? No? Good. I detest flowers.’”

Jon managed to suppress a laugh, and shook his head at Arya.

She wiped the scowl away and sighed. “I don’t know what she sees in him, I really don’t. He’s just this… mean looking old guy.”

For a moment Jon stood frozen, his head filling with blurry dreamlike images of Stannis without a shirt on. He shook his head, feeling his cheeks prickle with heat. Thankfully his memory decided to start functioning right then, and he recalled stuffing his wallet into a side pocket of his backpack. He strode across the room to where the bag was sitting and started to dig through the side pocket. The wallet was there, and in it he found a few dragons.

“Here you go,” Jon said, dropping the dragons into Arya’s palm. “And I don’t think you have to understand what Sansa sees in Stannis. You just have to respect her choice and try to be happy for her.”

“Yeah, I know.” She made a face as she pocketed her dragons. 

There was a short pause where neither of them spoke.

“When we were little, I used to think she’d marry you,” Arya said, breaking the silence.

Blood rushed to his face, making his cheeks sting. “Me? We’re cousins, Arya.”

“Because you’d always agree to be the groom when Sansa wanted to play a wedding game,” Arya said, acting as if she hadn’t heard him, “Robb never would.”

“He always played her knight, though,” Jon pointed out, “when she wanted to play the damsel in distress.”

“And we’d be the monsters and villains he had to fight off!” Arya added, grinning.

Jon nodded, a pleasant nostalgic feeling warming him from within.

The grin on Arya’s face changed to something more wistful. “I wish she’d date someone like you.” 

Jon’s stomach flipped over. “Why?”

“Dad wouldn’t act the way he acted this weekend if she were with someone like you.” She hugged herself, and looked away from him, staring out the window.

“Your dad will get used to Stannis,” Jon said, hoping that what he was saying was true. For Sansa’s sake as much as Ned’s sake.

“Will he, though?” Arya asked, looking at Jon again, her eyes searching his. “I don’t want things to be weird every time Sansa comes home.”

Jon cocked his head to the side. “Just like you don’t want things to be weird between you and your mum if you ever bring Gendry home?”

Arya’s eyes widened for a moment, and she opened her mouth and closed it. A dull pink colour rose to her cheeks. “That’s not - I wasn’t - you’re just -” She took a deep breath, poked him in the chest, and glared at him. “Don’t change the subject.”

It was his turn to hold his hands up in surrender. “All right, take it easy.”

Arya backed off. “I think I’m going to go to my room,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Pleasure doing business.” She held up the dragons he had just given her, flashed him a grin, and then she was gone.

Jon stared after her for what felt like a long time, thinking about that she had said. Their talk had given him an idea, but he wasn’t certain whether he should act on it. Potentially it might help fix things between him, Sansa and Stannis, but potentially it would only make things worse.

It would probably be safer just to keep out of it. Easier, too.

But what was the _right_ thing to do?


	30. A Northern Treasure

Stannis wasn’t sure what to think when Ned asked him for a moment of his time right before he and Sansa were set to leave. He’d have expected the man to want him out of Winterfell as soon as possible. Why the delay?

Ned’s study was unnervingly similar to his own. The colour scheme was different (warm greys, and weirwood accents), the furniture wasn’t arranged the same way, and there were unmistakable signs of feminine touches that were missing from Stannis’ own study, but both studies were dominated by books and had the same air of being lived in as much as worked in.

“Have a seat,” Ned said, an unreadable expression on his face.

Stannis sat, choosing a worn leather armchair that smelled very faintly of tobacco. Ned sat down on the other side of the coffee table, leaving plenty of space between them.

“What did you want to discuss?” Stannis asked, wishing to get to the point. He’d already spent too much time touring Winterfell’s grounds with Sansa. At this rate, it would be dark before they got back to King’s Landing.

“Jon came to me earlier,” Ned began, examining Stannis’ face closely. “We had a long conversation.”

Stannis’ blood froze in his veins and his muscles seized up. _Jon did what?_

“He told me about the advice you gave him regarding his proposal,” Ned went on, leaning back against the back of the sofa. “He said you were very helpful.”

Stannis’ heart was beating so loudly, each beat ringing in his ears, that he hardly heard Ned.

“He also told me that my behaviour this weekend has caused both of my daughters some considerable distress.” Ned looked down at his lap.

All Stannis could do was force himself to take even breaths. It did not seem as if Jon had spoken of anything… _private_ with Ned. That was good.

“I don’t want any of my children to feel that they, or their significant others, aren’t welcome in Winterfell. I know you have a daughter of your own, so perhaps you understand. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my children. They are everything to me.” Ned’s voice was steady as he spoke, but Stannis was not blind. He could see the emotion behind the words in every line of Ned’s face.

Emotion that had been completely missing every time Ned had been in the same room with Sansa all weekend.

“Jon has always been like a son to me,” Ned went on. “I trust his judgement, and he says you are a good man.”

“What about Sansa’s judgment?” Stannis couldn’t help but ask, red-hot anger pushing aside the multitude of questions that were popping up in his head. _Why would Jon vouch for me after everything that happened?_

“I trust her judgement, too,” Ned said slowly. “But we can all be a little blind when it comes to love. And sometimes I am concerned that she lets society’s expectations matter more than they should.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” Stannis said, scowling. “Either she’s blinded by love, or she’s with me for my money and my name. Pick one excuse not to trust her judgement. Not both.”

Ned looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Fair enough,” he said. “I suppose I should simply trust her to pick her own significant other. But she has been hurt before. I’m sure you would feel protective too, in my shoes.”

Stannis met Ned’s eyes. “I’m not going to hurt her. Not if I can help it. And from father to father, I’d suggest you worry more about the damage _you’re_ doing.”

Ned went very still. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

They stared at each other in silence, and Stannis was not at all displeased to see Ned redden with unmistakable anger.

“I would never hurt my daughter,” Ned said, breaking the silence. “I would die for my children.”

Stannis suppressed an uncharitable snort. “I’m sure that’s true,” he said evenly, reminding himself that this was Sansa’s father and that he did not wish to burn any bridges if he wasn’t forced to. “But you’ve been hurting her all weekend. For much longer than that, judging by what little I’ve gleaned. You barely pay attention to her. And you didn’t so much as touch her when we arrived on Friday.”

Ned’s face was still red, but his eyes looked startled.

“I was distracted,” Ned said, frowning. He shook his head impatiently, as if trying to clear it. “But that’s not what we’re here to discuss.” He took a deep breath and fixed Stannis with a sharp look. “I do not think you would harm Sansa on purpose, but if this carries on, if you two end up married… She’ll have to have children sooner rather than later. You’re not getting any younger.”

For a moment Stannis just blinked, his mind blank. _Marriage and children. With Sansa._

“I had hoped Sansa would… spread her wings a little before settling down.”

Stannis clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the somersaults his stomach was performing and the way his heart was racing. “You’re making a lot of assumptions, Ned.” Assumptions that Stannis didn’t dare make.

“Are you planning to break Sansa’s heart?” Ned asked, his voice quiet.

A wave of outrage washed every other emotion in Stannis’ body away. “Of course not.”

“Do you expect Sansa to leave you, then?” Ned seemed completely unfazed by Stannis’ tone.

The question hit Stannis like a punch in the gut. He looked away from Ned, pretending that there was something interesting right outside the window.

Ned let his question hang in the air for a few more seconds before carrying on as if he’d never asked it. “I have no doubt that Sansa would be the sort of wife and mother Cat is. She’d put her whole heart and soul into it. And she’d love every moment, and never think about what she’ll have sacrificed.” Ned paused, sighing quietly. “Cat and I were just kids when we got married. She put all of her dreams on hold when Robb came along, and then the rest of the kids, and she’s only just now starting to work on making them come true. And my sister - ” Ned stopped short, swallowing noticeably. “My sister’s life might have been very different if she hadn’t fallen pregnant when she did.”

Stannis stared. Ned looked mournfully back at him.

Stannis thought about Ned’s words. For a moment he considered Selyse and her sudden decision to join a cult. Had she always wanted to do something like that? Had marrying him and having Shireen robbed her of her dreams? He would never have expected the serious young woman he had married to cherish such an absurd dream, but maybe the signs had been there? Had he failed to pick up on them?

“I do not intend to pressure Sansa into anything,” he said at length, not quite knowing what else to say. “And I certainly don’t intend to ask her to leave school or abandon her dreams in order to raise a brood of children.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not going to expect her to play the role of the society wife, propping up a powerful husband and always remaining in his shadow?”

A vision of Addam Marbrand, carelessly mentioning his wife staying home with the children, floated to the forefront of Stannis’ mind, and he couldn’t help scowling. “Absolutely not.”

Ned searched his face for what felt like a long time before nodding. “I believe you.”

Stannis’ shoulders did not sag with relief, but his muscles did unclench a little.

Without a word of explanation, Ned rose to his feet and walked over to the shelves that covered one of the walls from side to side and top to bottom. There was a wooden box resting there that he picked up.

“Here,” Ned said, handing the box over as he sat back down. “Jon told me you collect coins.”

Stannis vaguely recalled telling Jon about his coin collection in passing, but it surprised him that Jon had remembered. He looked at the box. It was intricately carved with letters that Stannis didn’t recognise. Runes of some sort?

“Open it,” Ned said.

Feeling a little suspicious, Stannis opened the box.

There were several small objects inside: a dried and pressed blue winter rose, a parcel of letters addressed to the Vale tied together with a silver ribbon, an ornate and tarnished key, a silver necklace, a lock of dark hair, and three old, _beautiful_ coins.

“I thought those three might interest you,” Ned said, “though I confess I don’t know much about old coins.”

Stannis stared at Ned. All three coins were _highly_ sought after. Not quite priceless, but certainly up there with the coins that could be traced back to the first Targaryen kings.

“They’re very old. Made in the north when it was a separate kingdom. They’re quite valuable,” Stannis said, examining them gently, “you should have them insured.”

“Choose one,” Ned said, his expression completely serious.

Again, Stannis couldn’t help but stare at Ned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wish for you to choose a coin. For your collection.” Ned still looked dead serious.

He continued to stare, his brain going curiously blank.

“Consider it an olive branch,” Ned said, nudging the box closer to Stannis.

Moving slowly, feeling a little like he was underwater, Stannis reached for one of the coins. They were all of roughly equal value, so he simply chose the one that appealed to him. Well rounded. Well worn.

“Thank you,” he heard himself said, his voice a little hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” Ned said, extending his hand, meeting Stannis’ eyes, and holding his gaze. The handshake was warm and firm.

They rose to their feet and Ned walked Stannis to the door. Before taking his leave, Stannis hesitated.

Ned looked at him with his usual brooding expression.

“You should talk to Sansa,” Stannis said, wondering whether he should say more. Whether he emphasise to Ned how uncertain Sansa seemed to be of her place in his heart. After thinking it over he decided not to say anything else. He’d said his piece about Sansa earlier, and he didn’t like repeating himself.

“I will,” Ned promised, nodding determinedly.

Satisfied, Stannis took his leave.

After leaving Ned’s study, Stannis walked towards the blue guest room, clutching the coin tightly in the palm of one hand. He knew Sansa was in that room. She had probably finished packing by now. She was probably waiting for him.

But instead of hurrying to find her, Stannis found himself lingering outside the door next to their room. Jon’s door.

Stannis was sure Ned would eventually have accepted him, but it was obvious that Jon had gone out of his way to make sure it happened sooner rather than later.

He hesitated, not quite sure what he wanted to do.

Did he want to knock? See whether Jon was in there? Thank him for intervening? Shout at him for intervening? Ask him what the hell gave him the right? Threaten to behead him?

Before he had come to any semblance of a decision, the door flew open. Jon had a backpack slung over one shoulder and was wheeling a small suitcase along as well. His eyes widened when he saw Stannis standing right outside his door.

“Mr. Baratheon,” he said, swallowing noticeably.

“Mr. Snow.” The coin in his hand was burning a hole through his palm.

“Er, did you just knock? I’m sorry, I was packing, maybe I didn’t hear.”

There was an awkward pause, and Stannis wondered whether they were both thinking about things that had been _heard_ this weekend.

He cleared his throat. “I hadn’t knocked yet.”

There was another uncomfortable pause. Jon’s backpack started to slide off his shoulder.

“I just spoke to your uncle,” Stannis said. “He gave me this.” He held his palm out to show Jon the coin.

Jon nodded, clearly recognising it. “Mum found three of those in the ruins of the old Winterfell castle when she was little,” he said. “Apparently she had a phase where she was determined to be an explorer.”

“They’re very valuable,” Stannis said, unable to think of anything else to say.

Jon hitched the strap of his backpack up. “Yeah, well. I thought you might want one for your collection.”

Stannis thought of Ned’s handshake, and the significant way he’d said, ‘you’re welcome’. He closed his hand around the coin again. “I’ve never had northern coins in my collection. They’re… they’re rare.”

Jon nodded. “Well, now you have one.”

Stannis nodded, too. “Now I do.”

A strange, quiet understanding passed between them, though neither one of them said anything to acknowledge it.

“Well, I’m off,” Jon said, and awkwardness crept back into the atmosphere.

Stannis stood aside to let Jon pass into the hallway. He considered saying nothing at all, but eventually settled on something neutral.

“Good-bye, Mr. Snow.”

Jon inclined his head.

Somehow, the awkwardness melted away.


	31. Kings and Queens

Sansa knew she probably should have waited in the blue room for Stannis to return. But she had finished packing, and waiting on her own in the lonely guest room had seemed silly.

So she visited her childhood bedroom instead, letting her fingers trail over the carefully embroidered pillows that still decorated her bed, remembering how painstakingly he had worked to get them just so. They looked terribly childish to her now, but she still loved them.

It was the smell more than anything else that she missed. Nowhere really smelled the same as her old room.

“How was your walk?”

Sansa turned to face the door she had left ajar. Her mother stood there, a serene expression on her face.

“Good,” Sansa said, smiling. “Stannis liked the greenhouse. Especially since it runs on geothermal energy.”

“I suspected he might like that,” Catelyn said, nodding.

“Thanks for keeping my room like this,” Sansa said, gesturing at her surroundings. “It’s nice to be able to come home.”

“Of course.” Her mother’s voice was full of affection. “Winterfell will always be your home. And your father and I will always be here for you.”

Sansa couldn’t help it. She went to her mother for a hug. As much as she loved the smell of her room, there was nothing like the scent that always clung to her mother. It was everything that was comforting and familiar, and Sansa inhaled as deeply as she could.

“Dad hasn’t been really pleased with me this weekend, though,” Sansa mumbled into her mother’s embrace.

“Don’t be silly,” Catelyn said, giving Sansa one last squeeze before breaking the hug. “He’s always pleased with you.”

Something inside her leapt. “Really?”

“Yes. We couldn’t be more pleased with or more proud of you.”

Sansa closed her eyes and did her best to cherish the certainty her mother offered. But doubt crept back into her mind almost at once. “Dad doesn’t like Stannis, though.”

“Your father just wants what’s best for you,” Catelyn said, smoothing a lock of hair behind one of Sansa’s ears. “He’s coming around to Stannis. He saw how you both looked at each other last night.”

Sansa felt herself blush.

“It’s obvious that you love each other very much,” Catelyn said. A soft smile was playing on her lips.

“We do,” Sansa whispered, her heart stuttering. Despite, or maybe _because_ of their earlier argument, she was more certain of the love she felt than she could ever remember feeling about anything. “Do you really think Dad’s coming around?”

“Yes.” Sansa’s mother stroked her cheek, still smiling softly. “As a matter of fact, I know your father is talking to Stannis right now.” Her smile widened and she gestured around. “And look, the house is still standing.”

Sansa chuckled weakly. _Dad’s talking to Stannis? In private?_ “I should - I should go and see if they’re all right, shouldn’t I?”

Her mother was still smiling. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

Sansa wished she could be as sure.

The walk to her father’s study did not take very long. The door was ajar, but Sansa knocked anyway.

“Come in.”

Her father was sitting behind his desk. In front of him there was a wooden box, and he was staring into it with a far away look in his eyes. 

“Mum said you were talking to Stannis,” Sansa said quietly, taking a small step into the room and stopping. “Did I just miss him?”

“Yes,” her father said, still staring into the box, “he just left.” He looked up, and a shadow on his brow seemed to dissipate. “And I was just about to go look for you, actually.”

“Oh.” Sansa hesitated. Even though her father looked pleased to see her, she felt like she had intruded. “Really?”

Her father nodded and gestured at the sofa. He rose from his desk and headed for one of the armchairs.

Ever since Sansa had been a little girl it had been exciting to be invited into her father’s study. A rare treat. Once they were seated, Sansa took a surreptitious look around. Did he still have that secret bowl of candy that he thought her mother didn’t know about?

“I liked your speech last night,” Sansa said, breaking the silence.

Her father made a face. “I’m really not much of a public speaker.”

“Could have fooled me.” She smiled at him, her heart jumping when he smiled back.

He shook his head. “Talking to people has always been your mother’s gift, not mine.” He paused and looked her in the eyes. “Your gift, too,” he added.

Sansa blushed and looked down at her lap.

“I mean it,” he went on. “You see people, Sansa. You look beyond the surface and you _see._ ”

She hugged herself. She hadn’t seen Joffrey or Cersei. Not until it was too late.

As if he could read her mind, her father sighed. “We all make mistakes, but you’ve learnt from yours. Some people never learn.”

“I guess,” Sansa said, her arms still wrapped protectively around her middle.

“I hope - “ He paused, frowning. “I hope you see me. And I hope you can forgive me my mistakes.”

Sansa blinked at him, her mind going blank.

Her father shifted in his chair. “You do know how much I care about you, don’t you?” he asked, meeting her eyes. “It’s been - ah - pointed out to me that I may not be the best at showing it.”

Sansa kept blinking, but now it was a necessary part of keeping tears at bay. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if she could speak without starting to cry.

“You know, don’t you?” Her father repeated, leaning forward, his tone more urgent now.

She nodded, a small sob escaping her throat.

“Sweetheart,” her father said, looking dismayed. “Don’t cry.” And then he was sitting next to her, his arms tight around her, one hand moving in soothing circles over the middle of her back. He was strong and warm, and _there._

She cried harder, her whole body shaking with it, her heart feeling broken and whole both at once.

Her father held her through all of it. Just letting her cry, not saying anything except a quiet, “there, there,” now and then.

When her sobs had turned to little hiccoughs, and the stream of tears had turned to a trickle, her father let her go, rose up to fetch a box of tissues, and returned. Sansa’s heart expanded when he chose to sit back down beside her.

She used the tissues to wipe her face and blow her nose as delicately as she could.

With a kind expression, her father started speaking as if nothing had happened. “You have a gift, Sansa. And I hope you intend to use your gifts wisely,” he said, leaning forward and touching her cheek briefly.

Sansa took a deep cleansing breath. “Wisely?” She felt about as far from wise as it was possible to be at the moment.

“You like to help people, don’t you?” he said, giving her one of his small smiles.

She felt utterly confused. “Yes, of course, who doesn’t?”

“A lot of people don’t. And somehow they tend to be the people who end up in charge.”

Sansa thought of Tywin Lannister and repressed a shudder.

Without a word, her father reached behind a stack of books on a nearby shelf and produced a bowl of lemon drops. Sansa took one and gave her father a watery smile.

For a moment the study was silent. But it was an easy, companionable silence.

“Before, when Stannis was here, did you talk about anything in particular?” she asked, toying with the yellow wrapper and trying to decide whether to eat the candy now or save it for later.

“We did.” 

Sansa squashed the urge to say, ‘ _and?_ ’ 

“He’s a good man.”

_But?_

“... but I hope you’ll remember that you’re just as important as he is. Your life matters just as much.”

Of all the things that Sansa had expected her father to say, this was not it. He must have read her confusion in her expression, because he went on speaking.

“Stannis and his brothers might be descendants of the Baratheon kings of old, or they might not be, but you are a Stark, and the Starks were kings and queens before the Baratheons were even a whisper of an idea. Never forget that, Sansa.”

She sat up a little straighter, a pleasant tingly sensation prickling along her skin. It was a little like that feeling when a good song gave her goosebumps, but not quite the same.

“I’ll remember that,” she said, popping the lemon drop into her mouth and smiling as the flavour of it exploded on her tongue.

Her father returned her smile, and Sansa thought that despite everything that had happened with Jon and Stannis, coming home had been absolutely worth it.

***

“You seem pleased,” Stannis said after they had been driving for a while.

Sansa had been gazing dreamily out the window, thinking about her conversation with her father. She hadn’t wanted it to end, and her father hadn’t seemed in any kind of rush to kick her out of his study. She had eaten three lemon drops before she remembered that she and Stannis had to get going or they’d be driving well into the evening.

“I am pleased,” she said, turning to smile at Stannis. “I talked to Dad. It was nice.”

Stannis nodded, but didn’t smile. “I talked to your father, too.” His tone was neutral, and Sansa knew that his focused expression had as much to do with watching the road as it had to do with their conversation.

“What did you talk about?” She hadn’t really been able to fish it out of her father. Maybe Stannis would be more forthcoming.

“He was concerned about the future,” Stannis said, glancing quickly at her.

“Oh?”

“Yes. He’s anxious for you to be allowed to ‘spread your wings’, as he put it.” Stannis quoted her father passively, without a trace of derision, glancing again at her as he did.

Sansa nodded. “He told me I should use my gifts wisely.”

“How -” Stannis hesitated. “How do you see yourself - your life - in five years?”

The question sounded so much like something he might have asked her the first time they met, and his voice sounded almost exactly the same. If she didn’t know him like she did, she might have thought he was trying to interview her all over again. But she could see the way his knuckles were whitening on the steering wheel. She could see the tension in his jaw, and she was practically holding her own breath because he was holding his.

“I don’t know,” she said, forcing herself to breathe. “I’d like for us to be together, and I think I’d like to have a job.” She paused, thinking it over. “A job where I could help people.”

“Help people?” Stannis sounded mildly surprised. “Do you want to go to medical school?”

Sansa huffed out a laugh and shook her head. “No, I mean… something along the lines of the charity work I’ve been doing this summer. Except maybe… bigger.”

“That’s vague.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly figured it out, yet.”

Stannis hummed. “But you’re certain you want to continue our relationship?”

Her heart started to beat a lot harder. It felt very _serious_ to discuss the future like this. Momentous. “Of course. Don’t you?”

“Five years is a long time.”

“Not really,” Sansa said, her heart beating even faster.

“In five years I will be forty-five years old.”

She furrowed her brow. “So?”

Stannis stared at the road almost without blinking. “Do you want children?”

Her stomach clenched in on itself. “What, now?”

“No, in the future.”

She didn’t answer straight away. Having children had always been something that she had expected she would do at some point. When she had been ten, she had decided that twenty-eight was the absolute soonest she’d be willing to have a child, and she hadn’t really changed her mind, since. Sometimes she even thought the right thing to do, in this overpopulated world, was to adopt rather than have her own. She wasn’t sure this was something she should tell Stannis. Did he expect her to want to have as many children as her mother? 

“Maybe. Not in the next five years, though.”

“All right,” Stannis said. He didn’t seem surprised, and his grip on the steering wheel loosened.

Sansa bit her lip. “If we did decide to have a baby,” she paused to take a breath and think about how absurd it was to even discuss this at such an early point in a relationship, “when would be the latest you would want to do it?”

Stannis shrugged. “Before I’m fifty, perhaps. Though I’ve seen men have children past that age. I assume it gets harder to do any hands-on parenting after that however, so more hired help would be necessary.”

She felt a knot inside her come loose. They had about ten years before Stannis turned fifty, and that was plenty of time.

It was strange that they had been arguing only hours ago, and that Sansa had been genuinely scared that she might lose Stannis. And now they were discussing the future. Babies. A giddy bubble of laughter rose up from her chest.

“What?” Stannis glanced at her, looking puzzled.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just happy.”

Stannis still looked a little puzzled, but accepted her words with a nod.

Hours later, when they finally got home to the manor, Sansa’s good mood was still lingering. She was tired, and her muscles were aching, but the bright, optimistic feeling that had settled over her was still shining like a beacon from within.

It was past dinner, so they only had a light evening snack with Shireen. She wanted to hear all about the wedding, and Sansa was glad to share the details of the ceremony, the wedding dress Jeyne had worn, the decorations, the speeches, the food, and the dancing. Stannis would add his own take on things if prompted, but mostly remained silent. Sansa could tell it wasn’t a brooding silence, however. He simply seemed content to listen to her and Shireen talk.

The only awkward moment of the evening happened when Shireen asked who they’d sat with at dinner, and Jon’s name came up. Shireen was curious why a cousin was seated with the groom’s siblings, and Sansa had to explain that Jon had grown up with the Stark children since his mother had died, and no one really knew who his father had been.

“He’s sort of like a brother,” Sansa said, feeling blood rush to her face as she said it.

Stannis had gone very still.

“So you had _four_ brothers growing up?” Shireen sounded as if she didn’t know whether to be horrified or jealous.

“I guess,” Sansa said, glancing at Stannis and feeling her face burn. “But he was always closer to Robb and Arya than to me.”

The conversation moved on, but it took several minutes for Sansa’s face to feel normal again.

Later, when she and Stannis were alone in the master bedroom, Sansa felt the need to apologise.

“I’m sorry,” she said, watching Stannis for any sign of displeasure. “I didn’t mean to talk about Jon earlier.”

Stannis blinked at her, raising his eyebrows. He had been in the middle of unpacking, but he stopped with a clean pair of socks in his hand, seemingly too startled to drop them into the drawer where they belonged. “There’s no need to apologise. Shireen asked. You answered.”

“You’re not mad?” She was ignoring her own luggage. She’d unpack tomorrow, at the apartment. All she had done since they’d come upstairs was put on a nightgown and take her makeup off. She was sitting on the massive four-poster at the moment, her legs folded close to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her chin resting on her knees.

“No.” Stannis spoke matter-of-factly, his expression as serious as the expression of a man holding a pair of socks could possibly be. He toyed with the socks for a moment, and finally dropped them into the drawer before joining her on the bed.

They settled into a comfortable embrace, with Stannis’ chest serving as Sansa’s pillow.

“I talked to Jon before he left,” Stannis said, his tone neutral.

Jon had left before Sansa had a chance to say good-bye, but due to everything that had happened, she hadn’t really minded. She tried to imagine what Stannis and Jon might have talked about, but couldn’t think of anything. Nothing civil, at least. 

“Really?” She tried not to sound too anxious, but probably failed.

“Yes. Your father gave me a coin that belonged to Jon’s mother. It was Jon’s idea.”

Sansa’s eyes grew large, and she had to raise her head to stare at Stannis. “ _Really?_ ”

“Do you want to see it?”

Sansa nodded, and watched as Stannis crossed the room. He was only wearing pyjama bottoms, and though she was used to seeing him various stages of undress, she doubted she would ever get bored of it. She really liked his back. And his front. And every part of him, really. He fished a wrapped little parcel out of his wallet, his movements careful.

The coin inside the handkerchief was beautiful. Rounder than many of the old coins in Stannis’ collection, and untarnished. The markings were clear: a surprisingly detailed rendering of a heart tree on one side, and a sort of spiky crown on the other.

“It’s gorgeous,” Sansa whispered. She immediately felt a little silly about it; the coin would hardly get spooked if she shouted.

“It’s very rare. Very valuable,” Stannis said, speaking in a low voice too. It made Sansa feel less silly. “Your father called it an olive branch.”

Sansa wondered whether it hadn’t mostly been an olive branch from Jon. “And you accepted it?”

“Yes.” Stannis hesitated. “I believe your father and I have reached… an understanding.”

“And you and Jon?” Sansa prompted, holding her breath.

“I suppose we reached an understanding, too,” Stannis said, his eyes looking at her and through her at the same time. She knew he wasn’t ignoring her, however. Just thinking.

“Our next visit should be more pleasant, then,” Sansa said, watching as Stannis nodded, the far-away look fading from his eyes. He placed the coin carefully on his bedside table and held out his arms for her. She cuddled up to him at once. 

Stannis hummed, and Sansa could hear it rumbling up from his chest. She pressed herself closer and gave into the urge to stroke him, liking the way his skin felt under her fingers. She started at the hollow of his throat and moved down over the pectoral she wasn’t partially resting her head on, circling his nipple lightly. The whorl of fine dark hair growing around it was soft, and Stannis inhaled sharply when she gave a tug. She let her fingers trail lower, ghosting over his abdomen, tugging again on the hairs growing around his navel.

His muscles jumped beneath her fingers. “Sansa…”

She smiled to herself and glanced downwards. There was a growing bulge south of her hand that sent a shiver through her. Without pausing to think, she moved her hand to cup him through the cotton of his pyjama bottoms. A thousand butterflies erupted into flight inside her when he groaned, and the low heat that had been building between her legs as she touched him became a furnace.

“I thought you’d be tired from driving all day,” she said, moving a leg to trap one of his thighs between hers. She needed to feel something pressed against her.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, he pressed his thigh up, giving her the relief she needed. “I am,” he rasped, burying a hand in her hair and hissing when she wiggled her fingers beneath his waistband and started to fondle him properly. “But not too tired for this.”

For a while she enjoyed riding his thigh and fondling his cock until her hand was sticky with precome, liking the way her limbs became heavier and heavier, and how her whole world seemed to fall away, until all she could focus on was the heat between her thighs, and the delicious shocks of pleasure she felt every time she ground herself up against Stannis’ long, firm thigh.

Stannis broke first. “Take this off,” he said, tugging on her nightgown. He was already lifting his hips and pushing his pyjama bottoms down.

Sansa pouted for a moment at the loss of his thigh, but was quick to comply. She needed him.

The quickest way to get him inside was to straddle him, so that’s what she did. She had to wrap her hand around the base of his cock to hold him still as she sank down, but she knew he liked that. Just like she liked the way his hands went to her waist and down to her ass, squeezing and fondling and securing her in place.

“You feel so good,” she said, wriggling happily once she was fully seated.

Stannis just groaned and squeezed with his hands.

She closed her eyes and started to move, using similar grinding movements like before with his thigh. The difference was that now she was satisfyingly full, and the jolts of pleasure she experienced were all the more intense for it.

He was letting her set the pace, and Sansa made the most of it. She had long ago figured out which angles gave her the most pleasure, and she was quick to find them. But every time was different, and it always took a bit of experimenting to find whether her body was in the mood for fast, sharp grinding movements, or slow, lazy ones. Sometimes the best thing was to do little figure eights, and sometimes grinding just didn’t work at all.

While she worked on figuring out what she was in the mood for, Stannis’ hands roamed up to her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her nipples and sending ripples of pleasure through her.

 _Fast,_ Sansa decided then and there. “Don’t stop,” she whined.

Stannis didn’t really answer her. She had sped up, and though he was still touching her as she asked, he seemed too distracted for any coherent speech. His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, and she could feel his entire body twitching beneath her. Every now and again his hips thrust up, and Sansa was sure it was involuntary.

Much too soon, Sansa’s thighs started to burn with the effort, and she was forced to slow down though she had been getting _so close._ She whimpered unhappily.

Stannis was quick to take over. It meant takings his hands off her breasts so that he could grab her hips, but she didn’t care. She needed his help.

She cried out when he got the rhythm just right, his hands and his hips moving in tandem to replicate the motion from before. She used the little strength she had left to help, grabbing the headboard for leverage.

“I’m - I’m almost -” she gasped, closing her eyes and concentrating with everything she had.

Stannis groaned, and she felt him shift his thighs, bringing his knees up and digging his heels into the mattress. And then he was thrusting up and using his hands to pull her down, and _gods…_

“Yes, yes, yes-yes-yes -” 

She came in a blinding flash, her muscles trembling with the effort of it, her voice cracking, and her abdomen seizing. Absently, she was aware that Stannis was still thrusting, though more slowly.

“Fuck, Sansa… I’m -” 

The way he moaned her name sent another wave of pleasure through her, her inner muscles clamping down involuntarily.

His moan turned into a choked gasp, and his hips spasmed.

Eventually they stilled, collapsing into a sweaty heap. Sansa could already feel semen trickling out of her.

“I love you,” she said, even as she squirmed a little.

“I love you too.”

They kissed, deep and intense, tongues tangling together in the best way. When the kiss broke, they pressed their foreheads together, even though they were sticky with perspiration.

“I’m glad we’re not arguing anymore,” she mumbled, suppressing a yawn.

“Yes,” Stannis said, sounding almost as tired as she felt.

“And I’m glad Dad gave you that coin.”

Stannis hummed.

Sansa smiled to herself. “He gave me lemon drops, you know. Like he sometimes did when I was little. I love them.”

They kissed again, but this time the kiss was slower, sweeter.

“He said I was a queen,” she added with a yawn, even though that wasn’t exactly what her father had said.

“You are a queen,” Stannis said, quite seriously. He kissed her again. “My queen.”

She cuddled up to him, knowing that she probably shouldn’t get too comfortable. That she should probably go freshen up before she let herself fall asleep. It was just so hard to care about that now that she was sleepy and warm and all tucked into Stannis’ embrace. 

“Does that make you my king?”

“If you wish,” he said, stroking her hair.

It was the last thing she remembered him saying before she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue. ♥


	32. Epilogue - Mr. and Mrs. Mayor

Jon shook his head, shooting Davos a quick grin. It was hard to believe they were back in this position. Sansa had _sworn_ she and Stannis wouldn’t get distracted this time.

 _My own fault for believing her,_ Jon thought to himself, rolling his eyes internally. She had sworn the same thing every time they threw this damn event, and yet here they were.

“Just… stall,” Jon said, clapping Davos on the back. “I’ll look for them.”

Davos gave a long-suffering sigh, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Try to be quick. I don’t know how often I can tell the same crowd the same joke before they start demanding my head.”

Jon nodded, already heading to the staircase. If he knew Mr. and Mrs. Mayor correctly, they were in the middle of ruining Sansa’s pristine hairstyle behind a door they would have forgotten to lock.

“One of these days it won’t be me who finds you, and then you’ll be in trouble,” Jon muttered to himself, checking doors as he went.

When he finally arrived at a door that was closed rather than ajar, he paused and listened. It took a few moments of holding his breath and pressing his ear against the door, but eventually he heard a soft _thump._

He knocked, waited two seconds, and opened the door.

Stannis and Sansa were on the bed, lying on top of the bedspread. Sansa was sprawled over Stannis, his hand was doing _something_ underneath her skirt, and they were kissing as if Jon wasn’t even there. One of Sansa’s high heels had fallen on the floor, and Jon wondered vaguely whether it had been the cause of the _thump_ he had heard.

All things considered, it was one of the least precarious positions he had caught them in over the years.

Jon cleared his throat, knowing full well that they were perfectly aware of him standing there.

They finished their kiss, and Stannis withdrew his hand from beneath Sansa’s skirt. Sansa sat up and smoothed down her skirt, flushed an bright-eyed.

Stannis sat up too. “It’s customary to wait for permission to enter after knocking,” he said, casting Jon an irritated look.

Jon snorted, unfazed by the familiar scowl. “You’re late.”

“It’s only a fundraiser,” Sansa said, walking over the vanity and fixing her mussed hair with practised ease.

“You’ve got important people here,” Jon said, crossing his arms. They’ll be instrumental in a couple of years when the next elections will be held. You can’t just assume that because they supported you last time -”

“Are you planning to upset them?” Sansa asked, still working on her hair.

“Of course not, but if you keep making them listen to Davos and his knock-knock jokes, I won’t be held responsible for what they decide to do.”

“They’re _your_ business partners,” Sansa said, casting him an exasperated look.

“Oh, are they mine now?” Jon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said in your last speech that they were your husband’s partners in the north.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

Stannis, who had been quietly sorting himself out while they talked, walked over to Sansa and handed her a bobby pin. “It was on the bed.”

“Thank you,” she said, her expression softening. She took the bobby pin and used it to tame the last wild lock of hair that had been escaping the neat twist at the back of her head.

Jon took a step back and tried to keep himself from blushing. It was stupid that those two could still make him blush. After the past few years he really should be used to them.

“Do you have my speech?” Sansa asked, turning away from Stannis to look at Jon.

“Davos has it,” Jon said. “He said he’d make sure it was on the podium.”

“Thanks.” Sansa hesitated, biting her lip in a way she rarely did anymore. “Did Dad make it south?”

Jon shook his head, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. “No. He did call, though. Asked me to wish you good luck.”

A flash of disappointment was all Jon saw before Sansa composed herself.   
She straightened her back and nodded. “All right, let’s go and raise some funds, then.” The smile she fixed to her face was dazzling, and Jon had to blink a few times to clear his head.

 _She could have won the elections just with that smile,_ he thought, following along as she headed into the hallway. She probably wouldn’t have needed the goodwill and the support Jon and Stannis had inadvertently drummed up when Stannis had decided to back the business proposal in Jon’s thesis. The northerners in King’s Landing would probably have voted for her no matter what. But perhaps it had helped swing a few southern votes her way.

Once Sansa had ascended to the podium and started her speech, Jon slipped to the back of the crowded room unable to keep his eyes off her. He’d picked up a glass of Champagne from a passing waiter, but didn’t drink from it. All he could do was stare.

Sansa was in her element up on that stage. He would never have thought she’d become a politician, but then, she wasn’t like a typical politician. She didn’t thrive on the spotlight. She thrived on the idea that she might be helping people. Making the city a better, more welcoming place. Rooting out the corruption that had been allowed to fester in the system for far too long. When she spoke, it was always like she was speaking directly to you. She was always sincere. Always kind. But there was steel beneath that soft exterior.

Steel that Tywin Lannister and a few of his ilk had cut themselves on.

Jon smirked at the memories.

“You really shouldn’t stand around and smirk in the shadows,” a dry voice said. “Gives the wrong impression.”

Jon didn’t need to look to know that it was Stannis. “Shouldn’t you be up near the stage?”

“I’ll go back there in a minute. You should, too.”

Jon took a sip of his Champagne. “Must I?”

“Being a leader sometimes means taking part in the horse and pony show,” Stannis said, a disgusted look flitting over his face.

“I’m hardly a leader,” muttered Jon. _Not like Sansa._

Stannis just rolled his eyes. There was something surprisingly comforting about it.

The evening turned out to be an exhausting series of conversations about how he’d pulled off the ‘Northern Expansion’ as everyone had started to call it, becoming the ‘King of Northern Enterprise’ at just twenty-six years of age.

“Anyone could have done it if they’d had the financial backing I had,” he repeated over and over again, feeling - as he usually did at these events - like an utter impostor.

A few times during the evening he’d caught Stannis looking over at him, his eyes darkly amused.

_Prick._

Sansa found him hiding on a balcony when most of the guests had gone, and the remaining ones were too drunk to care about the ‘King’ anymore.

“You look like you’ve been enjoying yourself,” she said wryly, her hair still somehow perfectly in place.

Jon grimaced. “Not really.”

Sansa gave him a brief smile. “Yeah, these things aren’t my favourite either. But I try to think about all the good that can be done with the money we raise, and somehow that makes it all worth it.”

“Where’s Stannis?” Jon asked, not really wanting to discuss the fundraiser.

“He went up to bed an hour ago. He pretends he’s too old to stay up, but really he just hates rubbing elbows with people. He only agrees to host these things because he knows it makes it easier for him to sneak off when he’s had enough.”

“That filthy hypocrite,” Jon grumbled. “He was on my case earlier tonight, going on about how I just needed to put up with the ‘horse and pony show’.”

“Careful, I might tell him you’ve been calling him names,” Sansa said, grinning.

Jon gave her a mock glare, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

The view of King’s Landing looked beautiful in the dark, the city lights twinkling, the din of far off traffic almost soothing.

“Did I ever thank you?” Sansa suddenly said, looking at him with an expression Jon couldn’t quite place. Her voice was strange, too. Like it was coming from far away.

“Thank me? For what?”

“For talking to Dad. Getting him to give Stannis that coin.”

Jon shrugged, feeling blood rush hotly to his face. He tried never to think about Robb’s wedding and everything that had happened that weekend. “No need to thank me,” he muttered.

Sansa touched his shoulder. “I want to. I’m not sure Stannis would have forgiven you as soon as he did if you hadn’t. And if you two hadn’t been able to work together I don’t think I’d be Mayor.”

“You could have done it without us.”

Sansa looked down and then off into the distance. “Maybe.”

“I mean it, Sansa,” Jon said, touching her cheek. “You could have smiled and everyone would just have voted for you. I swear I was thinking it earlier tonight.”

“I don’t think I could have fought Tywin Lannister with just a smile,” Sansa said, pursing her lips. “But thank you.”

Jon shoved his hands into his pockets. There was a stretch of silence.

“I wish there was a coin that could make Ned actually show up to events that are important to you.”

Sansa froze for a moment, her smile almost a grimace. But the pained expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “He called,” she said, shooting him a quick glance. “Didn’t he?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie.

Sansa smiled again, her eyes softening. “That’s enough.” She blew out a loud breath. “Anyway, this was just a fundraiser. Not that important in the great scheme of things.”

Jon didn’t agree, but he decided to hold his tongue. Ned’s relationship with Sansa had always been different than his relationship with Jon and the others.

“I think I’ll go up to bed now.” Sansa covered her mouth for a moment as she yawned. “You’re welcome to stay the night.” She dropped her hand and gave him a mischievous look. “The room next to the master bedroom is free.”

Jon ducked his head, not quite knowing whether it was a serious offer or not, his heart beating a little too hard.

“Good night,” she added, squeezing his arm. There was something warm in her eyes that made his stomach jump to his throat.

He gazed after her, watching the balcony door for several minutes after she was gone.

“Good night,” he whispered to himself.

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading to the end! Especially if you're one of those wonderful people who has decided to leave me a comment to let me know you've enjoyed the experience. Each and every comment means the world to me!
> 
> I hope you've had a good 2018, and I hope 2019 will bring you many lovely things to read, and lots of inspiration if you like to write!
> 
> Happy New Year! ♥


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